


Better Than Any High

by Darknightjess (orphan_account), jay_linden



Series: Better Than Any High [1]
Category: Kingdom of Heaven RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Darknightjess, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_linden/pseuds/jay_linden





	1. Chapter 1

Orlando walked past the lighting rig, stopping to take a drink out of his water bottle. He heard one of the technicians standing on the other side of the machinery talking. "That is one good looking man. I mean to tell you, if I were to ever do a man - he'd be the one I'd do."

Orlando grinned and tipped the bottle up and as he listened further another voice spoke up. "D'you see him in the Rings movie? That blonde hair, damn my wife don't look that good a blonde." Orlando bounced on his toes and then stopped suddenly as the voice continued. "Yeah, that Csokas is one hot bitch." Boisterous laughter followed.

_Marton_. Orlando blinked; he'd forgotten that Marton was due to arrive on set this week. _I'll be damned._ He thought.

Later that afternoon Orlando turned a corner, chain mail clinking and spotted Marton talking to Ridley. He started to walk off when the dark eyes turned toward him. Orlando flashed a smile and waved.

_Orlando._ Marton's heart stopped for a moment before he gave himself a mental shake, giving Orlando a nod and a polite smile and turning back to his conversation with Ridley. _What, did you think this was going to be easy, seeing him again? Just do your job, be professional, and what you can't shake off, act out._ Marton stifled a snort. _That easy, eh? Christ._

_What the fuck was that? Ignoring me?_ Orlando frowned. _I don't fucking think so._ He walked to where the two men stood and smiled as Ridley looked over at him.

"Orlando! Look who got here. You and Marton know each other, I'm sure." Ridley smiled, nodding his head and then glanced at his watch. "Oh well, that's all for me at the moment. Marton, if you'll excuse me I've got to get to a continuity meeting. Orlando, you can take care of Marton, yes?"

Orlando grinned. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can."

_I don't fucking think so!_ Marton had to physically stop himself from saying the words, biting down hard on the inside of his lip and smiling at Ridley. _You have to work together, so stop being a whiny cunt and suck it up._ "Talk to you later Ridley," he said, smiling at the other man and virtually ignoring Orlando.

Orlando watched as Ridley scooted off, smiling and waving to everyone as he went. He turned back to Marton. "Hey Marts. It's been a while. How are you?" He smiled, cocking his head.

_Marts. Christ._ Marton shuddered inwardly. "I suppose it has. Congratulations on the part, by the way. Well done." _Certainly not going to say you've earned it. What do you know of struggling your way up through small time bit parts... taking goddamned 'Kangaroo Jack' type roles just to stay in the business..._ Marton thought, keeping a polite smile on his face.

"Thanks." Orlando dipped his head, then looked up through his lashes, lowering his voice. "I'm glad you're here - it's been - um a bit of a bore."

Marton raised his eyebrow and looked at Orlando. "Really?" he said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "You've been working with Liam Neeson- I can't imagine that possibly being boring."

"Well Liam stays busy, you know? He's just, well, he's not much fun." Orlando brightened, bouncing a bit. "So do you want to get some dinner?"

"No thanks- I already ate," Marton said coolly, looking around for a PA. He needed a ride back to the hotel. _Now._

Orlando looked around when Marton did, frowning slightly. "Uh drink then?" He reached and laid a hand on Marton's arm. "C'mon Marts, a drink or two?"

Marton finally made eye contact with a PA. "Can you find someone to drive me back to the hotel please?" "Sure thing, Mr. Csokas. Five minutes." Marton nodded and turned back to Orlando. "No thank you. I'm tired, I just want to get back to the hotel so I can be ready to work in the morning."

Orlando squeezed the strong arm under his hand. "Later then, yeah? It's going to be a long shoot, plenty of time."

Marton looked at the hand on his arm and then slowly looked up at Orlando. "What was cute and charming at twenty-two really isn't anymore at twenty-seven, Orlando. I'm not interested," he said, lifting Orlando's hand off his arm and walking after the production assistant without another word.

Orlando blinked. _What the fuck?_ He started to go after him and then stopped, smiling. He was used to getting his way, and this wasn't going to be any exception. Smiling, he turned and wandered off.


	2. Chapter 2

** New Zealand--Five years ago**

"...but don't you think so?" Orlando trailed off mouth open, he reached and tugged at Viggo's sleeve. "Oh fuck me, who's that?" He said, nodding his head toward where a crew was blocking out a shot.

"Orlando, we're in the middle of Lothlorien, I'm not going to fuck you," Viggo sighed, only hearing the first part of his sentence before looking up and seeing where Orlando was nodding. "Ah- that's Celeborn."

"Didn't stop you at Rivendell." Orlando mumbled, chewing at his lip. "Bloody hell, look at those eyes. Celeborn? No, who is _he_?" He looked back at Viggo and fluttered his lashes. 'Vigs," He whined out. "Who?"

"Orlando. No whining rule," Viggo reminded him, going over his lines and tuning out Orlando's tone.

"Viggo." Orlando said, voice sharp, then grinned. "C'mon mate. You know who he is, fuck, you know everybody, 'specially the elves. Look at him." He gestured to where the tall man stood. "Name? You know you want to tell me. You know you do."

"I know I want you to shut up," Viggo muttered. "Marton Csokas. He's playing Celeborn, Galadriel's husband," he said, finally giving in.

Orlando smiled. "Tha's a good ranger. Now how easy was that? And see, I'm leaving. I'll let you get back to communing with your script, all you ever had to do, was give me what I want." He bounced and then walked toward the men across the set.

Viggo rolled his eyes as he watched Orlando cross the set. "Good luck, Marton. You're going to need it."

Orlando stood watching Marton, chewing on his thumb. When the group broke apart he walked up and smiled at the tall, dark eyed man.

"You wish, Parker," Marton snorted as Craig walked away, turning away and grinning, shaking his head, looking up just as Orlando came into his line of sight. _Holy fuck. Who the hell is that?_

Straightening his back and lifting his chin, Orlando raised an eyebrow at the other man. "Hello." He said and dipped his head slightly.

"Hello," Marton managed, staring more openly then he'd like. "Marton. Marton Csokas," he said, extending his hand towards the man.

Orlando took the wide hand in his and shook it, swiping his thumb over it before releasing. "I'm Orlando Bloom, Legolas. It's nice to meet you."

"Marton Csokas," Marton repeated, a little unnerved by Orlando's thumb stroking over his hand. "I said that already, didn't I?" Marton shook his head. "It's good to meet you too, Orlando. You make one hell of an elf. I'm still halfway wondering what Pete was thinking, casting me," he grinned, looking around at all the incredibly tall, slender people walking around, then taking another look at Orlando.

"And I was wondering why he didn't cast you first." Orlando said, letting Legolas slip a bit as his cheeks colored and he broke out in a grin. "You'll have to come out with us some night and meet the rest of the gang, when we don't have our clothes - uh - costumes on." Orlando stopped wide-eyed and then burst into laughter. "Oh fuck man, sorry. That was - yeah, sorry."

Marton's eyes opened wide, matching Orlando's, a faint blush staining his cheeks, much to his chagrin. _Get a hold of yourself Csokas- Christ! You don't even know this guy and he's turning you into a bloody schoolgirl._ "Well, I know the Zid guys, of course," he said, trying to recover. "And a few people from the Fellowship- I've rehearsed some with Viggo. But yeah, I'd love to come out sometime... do something more casual."

"Dancing." Orlando said and clapped his hands together. "We're going tomorrow night. I'll let you know where we decide. It'll be fantastic." Orlando stopped and looked off to where someone was calling for Legolas. Turning back to Marton he bowed his head and in a soft voice said, "Celeborn. Until tomorrow." He turned and made his way across the set.

A chill went up his spine at the tone in Orlando's voice. "Tomorrow," Marton murmured, nodding at him and watching him walk away.

Later that afternoon as he was leaving the trailer, Orlando popped his neck, turning it from side to side and punched at Dominic as he shoved at him laughing. "Wanker!" He called and then he spotted Viggo. Loping up to him he fell in step as the older man walked toward the car park. "What're ya doing Vigs?"

"Why?" Viggo asked, instantly suspicious.

"I'm bored and the guys are tired and not going anywhere and I was going to come home with you. I'll bring beer." He said with a smile and rubbed at his nose.

"Why Orlando, you sweep me off my feet," Viggo deadpanned. "I would have thought you'd be knocking boots with the king by now... or wait- was that only in your head that particular event happened?"

"Well, _you're_ going to be king someday." Orlando waggled his eyebrows at Viggo. "Marton's going to come out dancing with us tomorrow, but I'm bored tonight. C'mon Viggo, You know you want to. You know you do." He grinned and bumped his shoulder against Viggo.

"Quit that. No nagging rule," Viggo said, unlocking the passenger door and holding it open for Orlando before crossing over to the driver's side.

Orlando squirmed in the seat happily, waiting for Viggo to start the engine before playing with the dials on the radio and turning the music up loud.

"Orlando! Elijah-recommended music rule!" Viggo bellowed.

"Too fuckin' many rules." Orlando grumbled as they headed toward Viggo's house.

Viggo glanced to the side, reaching out and tugging at Orlando's lip. "No pouting for attention rule," he smirked.


	3. Chapter 3

** New Zealand--Five years ago**

Marton looked up at the name over the club, fairly certain that he'd gotten it right, although it had taken both he and the production assistant five minutes of turning the paper around and squinting at it to figure out what Orlando had written in the first place. He handed the cover charge to the bouncer and walked inside, squinting as he looked around the room, trying to see if there was anyone he recognized.

Orlando shimmied and as he turned his eye caught Marton standing at the edge of the dance floor. He lifted his arms and moved to where the other man could see him. Orlando swayed slowly, letting the music move through him as the song thrummed to an end. He leaned in, arms still in the air and spoke into Marton's ear. "I'll get you a drink, yeah? You wait here." He let his jaw brush against the shell of Marton's ear as he pulled his head back.

Marton nodded and watched him walking away, realizing that he hadn't said a word since he'd walked into the club and seen Orlando. He gave his head a shake and sighed. "What the hell am I doing?" he muttered, unable to shake the grin crossing his face.

"Hadn't been here a week and already taking to yourself, bad sign that."

"Didn't your mother teach you that it's rude to eavesdrop, Parker?" Marton said, not bothering to turn around, knowing the voice behind him from the first word spoken.

"Probably about the same time yours was failing to teach you to not stare, or drool." Craig said with a laughed, stepping next to his friend. "Nice to look at, isn't he?"

"Hey- I was not drooling!" Marton insisted, giving Craig a sharp elbow in the side, ignoring the bit about staring. "He knows how to move," Marton murmured, agreeing with Craig.

"Oomph." Craig huffed as Marton poked him. "Bastard." He said with a laugh, rubbing his side. "He sure does, from what I hear, just remember one thing about our Prince of Mirkwood; he's like a halogen light bulb - bright, pretty, warm and useful but if you touch it - it'll blow up in your face." He was quiet for a second and then said, "Come on to the table and sit down."

"I'll find you in a minute- he's grabbing drinks, and I don't want to lose him in the crowd," Marton said, puzzling over what Craig had just told him. _He's a light bulb?_ "And by the way- you've only gotten stranger as you've gotten older, Parker. Just so you know."

"Un huh, well, we're back in the corner if you want to come over." Craig said and clapped Marton on the shoulder, walking off.

Orlando walked up and handed Marton his beer, eyeing him appraisingly. He leaned in and spoke, "I like that color on you, the green." He smiled and took a sip of beer, dragging the bottle hard across his bottom lip as he tipped it down.

_Oh CHRIST- does this kid have any clue how sexy he is?_ Marton thought, his eyes focused in on Orlando's lips, watching him swallowing the beer, trying and failing miserably to keep his mind from going places... "Thank you- your shirt is- well- it's interesting," Marton settled. "Looks good on you."

Orlando smiled and peeled one side of his open shirt back, revealing a lean, tan, sweaty chest. "Thanks, few more dances and it'll be too hot for it. I don't wear any of the ones I really like when we come out dancing, half the time I lose the damn thing." He shrugged and the shirt slipped down off of one shoulder. "So d'you dance?"

Marton grinned, taking a good look at Orlando and tipping his beer back, setting the bottle off to the side and rolled his sleeves up a little higher on his forearms. "I dance."

Orlando took Marton by the arms, eyes hooded by dark lashes, he licked his lips and walked backwards onto the dance floor. He squeezed the strong warm arms under his hand appreciatively, tugging. "Prove it."

A few dances later, Orlando's shirt was showing definite signs of being near to falling off completely, and Marton's was open by a few more buttons... not that he was entirely sure how they'd become unbuttoned, because he certainly hadn't done it. He leaned closer to Orlando's ear, his voice cheeky. "You're looking tired, mate- get you a bottle of water?"

"Hot, not tired." Orlando said, turning his head, lips brushing against Marton's jaw. "There is a difference." He pulled back and grinned. "Get us some water, I'll find us a table."

Marton grinned, shaking his head as he walked over to the bar, ordering the water and a beer for each of them, then scanning the room for Orlando, grinning when he noticed him standing with a few other people, heading over and handing him the drinks.

Orlando took his drinks, gulping down half of his water at one time. He smiled at Marton, cocking his hip so that he leaned against him slightly. Flapping his hand toward the table of rambunctious actors. "Marton, the hobbits under the influence. It's not a pretty site." He said with a grin and then ducked the various items that were tossed at him. "C'mon, let's find someplace quieter and less hobbity!" He grabbed Marton's belt loop and pulled him toward the back of the  
club, stopping near a walled alcove that held the phones. "Better, quieter, yeah?" He said, sitting his beer on top of the phone and leaning against the wall.

Laughing as Orlando pulled him along, and not entirely sure why he was letting him get away with doing it, Marton rested against the wall, turning to look at Orlando. "It's certainly quieter... 'though the wall is still vibrating from the bass," he pointed out, placing his palm against the wall and grinning.

Orlando laid his hand over Marton's, flattening it to the wall. "Close your eyes and feel it. That's what I fucking love about dancing, about just coming out here. It's like you can feel it." He placed his other hand flat, fingers spread, on Marton's chest between the open sides of his shirt. He could feel the sweat damp skin and smiled. "Here, you can feel it inside, it's like your blood starts to pound with it - it's better than any fucking high." He moved his hands and leaned back, hitching a happy sigh and taking a drink of his beer.

Marton shivered a little despite the heat of the club, certain if he closed his eyes he would still feel Orlando's fingers pressed against his chest. "You're not really like anyone I've ever met, Orlando," he said, looking at him as though he was trying to figure him out.

Orlando rolled sideways against the wall, chest pressed into Marton's arm. "I'm not like anyone anywhere, Marts." He studied the man a second, leaning a bit closer. "D'ya want me to move?" He asked in a low voice, barely speaking above the noise from the dance floor down the hall.

"No," Marton said automatically, his senses shredding his brain. How the hell was this man- hell, this _kid_\- shredding him like this? He was turning into a hormone drenched seventeen years old again, all over a skinny dark haired guy with a stupid haircut and a voice like sin. "Why did you ask me to come out?" he murmured, the question out before he could stop it, leaning closer to hear his answer.

"I wanted to and I always do what I wanna do." Orlando said, eyelids sliding closed for a beat as he inhaled the warm musk scent of Marton. He made an almost humming noise and smiled. "Why'd you come then?"

"Because you asked me," Marton smiled, his voice still low, fighting a losing argument with his cock as Orlando came closer and..._did he just smell me?_ "Seemed the polite thing to do."

"Mmm polite? Oh well, if that's the only reason." He shrugged his shoulder languidly, letting the movement rub his chest against Marton's arm. "So, this polite thing? What else could I get you to do? You know, so that ya wouldn't hurt my feelings, hmm?"

Marton felt his cock hardening more, pressing uncomfortably against the denim, sweat beading across his forehead again. _He's not really... is he?_ Marton's thoughts swam, unable to completely reconcile whether Orlando was hitting on him or not, undeniably flattered, but not entirely sure he wasn't just letting himself see what he wished to see. "You want me to go get you another beer? Fetch and carry?" Marton teased, his voice more strained than he'd like.

"Beer'd be good." Orlando shifted until his bare chest, shirt hanging open and almost off his shoulders, was pressed to Marton's. "D'ya have beer at your place?" He dropped his chin slightly, looking up at Marton, cheeks coloring. "I'm sorry, it's just - well - I'm not real sure - you know that you're- uh - but-" Orlando blinked, teeth tugging at his bottom lip. "M'sorry, I can go." He said in a quiet voice.

"Do I have..." Marton's eyes opened wide, staring right into Orlando's eyes, "at my place? You want to come to my place?" he repeated, a bit shell shocked.

Orlando smiled and nodded, leaning his head down until his nose touched the base of Marton's throat. "Yeah, I do."

Marton shuddered, not having intended that so much as an actual question, but as a clarification- _Christ- I am fucking nuts- Marton, stop questioning everything and go with it already!_ "You drive? Need to follow me home?" he said finally, fighting not to press right up against him.

Orlando shook his head, causing his lips to drag across Marton's skin. When he spoke the breathe from his words ghosted out. "No, rode with a hobbit." He lowered his voice even more and rose on his toes a fraction, just enough to drag skin against skin. "Mmm, get the car? I gotta settle my tab with the guys and I'll meet ya out front, 'kay?"

"Meet you out front," Marton repeated, wondering just when he'd turned into a fucking parrot, at the same time, not really caring. He looked down and grinned, quickly doing up the buttons that had come undone on his shirt and reluctantly moved away from Orlando, heading through the bar for the door.

Orlando grinned and spun, moving fast through the crowd. When he got to the table he scratched out some money from his front pocket, grunting when his knuckle brushed his erection. "I'm outta here mates. How much I owe?" He asked the table full of men in general.

"You're out of here, huh? I shouldn't be expecting company later tonight then?" Viggo deadpanned, rolling his eyes at Orlando. "Nice early night at home- rest up for shooting tomorrow?"

Orlando squinted at Viggo and sniffed. "Oh, I should be good and relaxed, so no, I won't be needing you. Thanks anyway though." He smirked and blew Viggo a kiss, tossing a few bills on the table.

"I suppose there's no point in telling you to be careful, is there?" Viggo said, standing up and moving closer to Orlando. "Or maybe I should be warning him and not you."

"Oh fuck off Vigs." Orlando said, his voice nowhere near as harsh as his words. He smiled and ran a finger across Viggo's lip. "Don't worry about me, and he's a big boy - or at least I'm hoping he is." Orlando laughed and moved toward the door.

"Not worried about you," Viggo murmured, sitting down again and looking around the table. "Okay- that's Billy, Astin and Parker- pay up." Viggo frowned. "Where'd Craig go?"

"Marton." Craig called as he saw the man start out the side door. "Hey, where you headed off to so soon?"

Marton paused, looking back at Craig and cursing himself for the blush that he knew was coloring his cheeks. "Going home," he mumbled, averting his eyes.

Craig nodded, tipping up on his toes and rocking a second before speaking. "Alone?"

Raising his head to look at Craig, Marton shot him a look. One Craig knew well. The 'it's absolutely none of your fucking business' look.

Craig put his hands in the air, palms out. "Fine, fine. One thing because we're friends. Just remember - young doesn't always equal innocent, m'kay?"

"Goodnight, Marton- see you tomorrow on set." Marton said, his voice firm, but friendly, leaning in and giving Craig a quick hug.

Craig clapped Marton on the back and nodded, and took his cue from Marton. "Yeah okay, goodnight, Marton- see you tomorrow on set. Take care." He said and walked back to the table.

When he saw Marton come out the side door Orlando strode over and fell in step beside him. His hands were stuffed in his front pockets and he grinned at the older man, shyly.

"All settled up then?" Marton murmured, letting himself drift closer to Orlando as they walked, not quite touching him.

"Yeah, I'm yours til morning." He said and bumped his hip against Marton. "Z'at okay?"

"I think I'll manage," Marton grinned, pausing and unlocking the car door for Orlando, then moving over to the other side and starting the engine.

As Marton pulled out of the parking lot, Orlando lifted his hand to fiddle with the radio. Stopping himself and the laugh that the action almost caused, he scooted sideways and dragged his fingers down the outside seam of Marton's jeans, scraping his nail on it. He leaned over and put his mouth on the ridge of muscle at Marton's shoulder, blowing warm air through the fabric. He sat back up, leaving his hand on the strong thigh.

Marton stepped a little too hard on the gas, not expecting Orlando's hand to be, well, _there_! Getting himself and the car under control again, he shifted, his pants suddenly pressing uncomfortably again. "You trying to kill me then? Just remember, I go down, we both go down," he advised.

Without turning his head, Orlando shifted his hand to cup the bulge in Marton's lap and said, "pull over Marts, and then I'll be the only one going down, yeah?" He squeezed lightly.

"I didn't really just say that, did I?" Marton gasped at the touch, only just managing to keep his eyes on the road. "Oh Christ, I did," he breathed, licking his lips.

With his free hand, Orlando pointed to a side street. "There, on the right, pull over. Down a little ways there's a parking lot."

"How do you know that?" Marton groaned, trying like hell not to not to steer the car into a lamp pole. "You make a habit of finding isolated places you can hit in the middle of the night?"

Orlando pulled his hand back and tucked it under his leg, turning his head he blinked at Marton. "No - I - is that what you think?" He asked with a frown. "It's the back parking lot for a curry place Dom and I come to." He finished in a quiet voice and turned to look out of the window.

Marton winced, pulling into the parking lot and turning the car off, turning to look at Orlando. "I'm sorry, Orlando. I- Christ, I didn't mean it like that. I don't think anything of the sort- I don't even know you," he pointed out, reaching his hand out and brushing Orlando's cheek. "I am sorry," he repeated, shifting his hand away and reaching for the ignition. "Tell me where you live- I can take you home," he murmured.

Orlando quickly turned and grabbed Marton's hand, pulling it toward him and mouthing the knuckle. "No, wait. I want this. I know you didn't mean it like that. Please." He moved closer to Marton and tilted his head, kissing warmth over the man's lips. He licked across them, pulling back with a sigh. "You taste great." He put his hand over the fly of Marton's jeans and rubbed.

Marton closed his eyes, still seeing the look on Orlando's face, his reaction to Marton's words. "You don't have to- oh god..." he groaned, his head leaning back against the headrest, his hips tilting up, pressing up into Orlando's hand.

"I want to." Orlando said. "But you're a big man, and there's not a lot of room. Hmmm. Wait, I've got an idea. Stay there." He said, raising an eyebrow and grinning as he opened the car and climbed out. Walking around to the driver's door he opened it and held his hand out to Marton.

Cocking his eyebrow at Orlando, Marton took his hand, grabbing the keys and stuffing them into his pocket as he climbed out of the car.

Without a word Orlando lead Marton into the alley. He stopped and turned to face Marton, he placed his hands flat on the broad chest and pushed until Marton was leaning against the brick wall. Dragging his fingers down to hook in the jeans waistband, Orlando gracefully folded to his knees. Gaze never leaving Marton's, he moved his hands to the button, popping it and smiling. He slowly tugged the zipper down, the snick of the metal loud in the silence of the alley.

Marton stared down at Orlando, biting off a moan of mixed pleasure and relief as Orlando unzipped his jeans, relieving the pressure on his cock. Craig might have been right- innocent he's not, Marton thought, he's pure sin in the body of a marble statue.

Orlando pulled at the jeans until they were down the muscular thighs. He smiled happily at the erection straining the boxers. With sure movements, he curled his fingers into the elastic and pulled it out and over Marton's cock, smile widening as the hard length arced upward in the night air. "Oh fuck yeah." He said softly and licked the tip of his tongue over the slit.

Moaning again, his head thudded against the brick, cock jerking in response to Orlando's tongue. "Christ, Orlando- please?" he hissed, running his hand over Orlando's head, his only regret that there wasn't enough hair there to tangle his fingers in.

Chuckling once, Orlando opened his lips and sunk his mouth onto the smooth flesh. He swallowed, taking Marton deep. He ran one hand underneath the man's tight balls and back, until he could scratch a blunt fingertip over his puckered entrance.

Marton clenched his teeth hard, trying to stay quiet, acutely aware that despite the time of night they were out in public... in an alley... with possibly the most beautiful man he'd ever seen kneeling- Christ- _kneeling_ on the ground in front of him, sucking him off. Letting out a muffled scream as Orlando's finger traced over his opening, he thrust forward, unable to stop his hips from jerking, then forced himself still, not wanting to hurt Orlando.

Orlando let his throat relax, and used his tongue against the sensitive underside of the length in his mouth as he moved his head. His lips stretched wide as he sunk to the wide base, the dark musky curls tickling his nose. Using just the tip of his finger he entered Marton gently and hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard.

Orlando's tongue tracing against his cock he could have handled. The fact that he appeared to have virtually no gag reflex, that had him well on the way to unspooling, but he was still mostly in control, even with the added suction. But the slim finger easing into his body at the same time? It was too much. Marton snapped, letting out a strangled gasp and pumping his hips, fucking Orlando's mouth as he came hard.

Orlando swallowed, letting Marton ride out the orgasm. When the man stilled and he felt him relax back onto the wall, Orlando pulled his hand back and slipped the still mostly hard cock from his mouth, licking it softly. He gently tucked him back in, pulled the shorts up and with slow movements, pulled the jeans up and deftly zipped them. He stood and rubbed his knuckles against Marton's jaw. "Take me to your place, yeah?"

"Hmmm?" Marton murmured, sated and content, leaning into Orlando's touch and smiling, then giving his head a bit of a shake. "Right. My place. Right." He pushed off the wall with a contented sigh, turning over his shoulder and grinning at Orlando, his eyes wicked. "Coming?"

Adjusting his jeans that were suddenly way too tight, Orlando replied with a laugh. "Fuck I hope so."


	4. Chapter 4

** New Zealand--Five years ago**

Marton unlocked the door to the rented apartment, tossing his keys to the ground beside the door as they walked inside and flicking the light on. "Living room, kitchen, bathroom down the hall, first door on the right," he said, pointing in the general direction as he kicked his shoes off.

Orlando pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, letting it drop and looked at Marton. "Bedroom?"

"End of the hall and left," Marton said automatically, turning around and letting out an appreciative hum. "You had a shirt on when we left the car... at least I'm pretty sure you did."

"Oh, am I violating a dress code?" Orlando said and hooked his finger into Marton's waistband and began backing toward the hallway. "Coming?"

"Just did," Marton reminded him, echoing Orlando's earlier joke, but letting him pull him towards the bedroom.

"My turn then." Orlando said.

He let go of Marton when they entered the room, looking around he turned on the light on the nightstand. "Yeah." He leaned and licked Marton's neck, dragging his teeth up to his jaw and then nipping lightly. He pulled back. "Condoms, lube?"

"Top dresser drawer," Marton said, licking his lips and watching Orlando move across the room, unable to take his eyes off him, unable to figure him out. Unable to understand the reaction he was having on him. And unwilling to care.

Orlando got the supplies and tossed them on the bed, thumbing open the buttons on his jeans, he slowly shoved them down. As he toed off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans, he lifted his hand and ran his tongue across the palm slowly. Watching Marton watch him, Orlando wrapped his long fingers around his hard cock and stroked once, a moan escaping him at the feel.

_Christ, he's beautiful,_ Marton thought, not realizing that he'd murmured the words under his breath as well, his eyes following Orlando's hand, his fingers straying to the buttons of his shirt, only fumbling a little as he managed the last of them, tossing the shirt to the side.

"Mmhmm." Orlando said and smiled. "Oh man, I really need you." He loosely stroked his cock, barely moving his hand, just keeping a warm flush along it. "Please."

Marton crossed the room, hardly even feeling the carpet under his feet as he moved. He stopped, just in front of Orlando, reaching out to touch his face, then letting his hand drift down his cheek, fingers tracing over his neck, down his chest, skimming over his hip and cupping his arse gently. "Beautiful," he murmured, looking Orlando in the eyes, starting to drop to his knees.

Orlando caught Marton's elbow and lifted. "Wait." He leaned in and kissed him, sucking Marton's lip into his mouth before pulling his head back. He pushed his hands into the thick dark hair and buried his face against the sweat damp neck. "I - can - I want you, can I, hmm?" Orlando shifted closer, grinding his aching erection into Marton's hip.

And Jesus, didn't that sound like a good idea- or at least Marton's slowly reviving cock and seared brain certainly seemed to think so, and Marton was nodding before he even realized he was doing it, wondering for about the seventy-third time just what the hell it was about Orlando. "Yes- Christ, yes," he breathed, brushing his lips over the top of Orlando's head, then tilting Orlando's head up to look at him. "Go easy though, mate. Been awhile." Been one hell of a long while, to be honest, but Marton wasn't remotely interested in saying no.

"I'd never hurt you." Orlando said quietly and led Marton to the bed, helping him strip off his jeans. When Marton was undressed he lay down and Orlando stretched out next to him, hand moving over the tanned skin, touching, soothing, teasing. He took one nipple between his lips, mouthing it wetly before twisting the hard peak between his teeth.

Marton closed his eyes, relaxing against the bed, then arching up slightly, a soft cry spilling over his lips as he felt Orlando's teeth against his skin.

Orlando smiled and sat up, moving to kneel between Marton's legs, he then reached and uncapped the lube, coating his fingers. With one hand he rubbed across Marton's stomach, fingers scratching lightly through the coppery hairs as he licked at the erect cock. He moved the other hand below, circling and massaging around the pucker. Slowly he entered with one finger, gently moving it, feeling as Marton tensed, Orlando sucked the velvety head into his mouth, letting Marton relax before he slipped his finger in further, crooking it and feeling for the small nub of nerves.

Marton groaned as Orlando's finger first started pressing inside him, slowly managing to relax as Orlando's mouth and fingers worked and teased. _It's not like you're a virgin or anything- when you were with Karl he used to fuck you all the time... it's only been-_ Marton ruthlessly crushed the thought before he could find out if he knew exactly long- to the day- it had been since Karl, his legs opening wider, moaning as Orlando's finger pressed over his sweet spot.

Orlando took his time, licking and kissing, using the hard edge of teeth until he could slip the second finger in. He waited, feeling the clench and then relax, and then small movement of pressing towards him and he smiled. After a few more minutes, he lifted his head, mouth watering at the sight of Marton, skin sheened with sweat in the dim lamp light, head thrown back, dark hair spread across the pillow. "Marts, you're gorgeous." He said and reaching, grabbed a condom and used his teeth to tear it open. "I need you, fuck please."

Marton nodded, forcing his eyes open and looking at Orlando, a hint of desperation showing up in them. "Please- please?" he whispered, raising his hips up in a slow, deliberate move, then lowering them to the bed again, his tongue swiping over his lower lip.

"M'kay relax for me, just breath and relax, 'kay? For me? If I need to stop, just tell me and I do, 'kay?" He removed his fingers from the warm passage, and rolled on the condom, slicking his erection with lube and then kneeling up, lifting Marton's legs out, tip of his cock barely touching him. "Babes, tell me, yeah?" He moved his hips slightly, pushing in just barely and stopping.

Marton smiled, Orlando's caution and care not to hurt him touching him, not feeling the slightest bit patronizing. "I'm okay, Orlando- its been awhile, not forever. Please- more?" he breathed.

"Yeah." He said and smiled wide, eyes sparkling. Still taking his time he pushed in slowly until he was flush against him. "Oh Christ you're tight, fuck that's hot." He groaned as he slipped out and then flexed his hips up just enough to ensure his cock dragged across Marton's prostate. The heat surrounded him, making his muscles quiver and he moaned.

Gritting his teeth, then forcing out a deep breath, Marton sighed as Orlando filled him completely. "Christ, yes..." he groaned as Orlando's cock brushed over his prostate, melting under the other man.

Orlando shifted and began to move as a rhythm developed. His breath came in harsh gasps as he thrust. "Oh fuck - Marton - goddamn." He muttered, voice raising as the felt the heat pooling in his belly. He leaned up on one arm and reached to grasp Marton's cock, the smooth warm flesh hard in his hand.

Marton cried out as Orlando's hand closed around his cock, rocking his hips in rhythm with Orlando, thrusting up into his hand, his breath coming faster.

Orlando began to shudder, movement hard and strong as he felt the pulse burn of his climax start. "Yeah, c'mon - fuck!" He cried out. Speeding up his movements until he slammed in, tensing and trembling and fell over the edge.

Arching his back and lifting them both up off the bed, Marton gasped, pulsing over Orlando's hand as he came, slowly reaching up and wrapping his arms around the other man.

Orlando snorted a soft laugh and reached down to place a kiss on Marton's mouth. He knelt up, carefully pulled out, removing the condom and then lay down beside Marton. His heart thudded in his chest and he was grinning. He shifted and laid his head against Marton's shoulder, kissing the golden skin before settling in. "Damn." he said in a raspy voice.

"Seconded," Marton groaned, stretching out against the bed, wrapping an arm loosely around Orlando. "You really are like no one I've ever known, Orlando. And I hardly know you," he added, snorting a little at that.

"Mmm, just wait'll you get to know me." He said, hand running across the flat plane of Marton's stomach. He sat up suddenly. "Oh fuck sorry. Hang on." He rolled off the bed and headed out of the room and across the hall. Coming back a few minutes later with a bath towel dampened. "Sorry." He said and smiling, sat next to Marton and gently wiped him clean.

Marton closed his eyes, murmuring happily as Orlando cleaned him off, his respect for the younger man growing all the time. "Thanks, mate. 'Though I can think of worse things than waking up stuck to someone as bloody good looking as you." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Unless you wanted me to take you home." he said reluctantly, feeling he had to make the offer.

"Un uh." Orlando said and snuggled in next to Marton. He scooted until his lips were against the shell of Marton's ear. "Don't want to go yet. 'Cause if I stay then we can fuck again, right?"

"Oh Christ," Marton laughed, even as he shuddered with pleasure at the thought. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"I go down, you go down? Right?" Orlando said laughing and rolled across Marton, hugging him.


	5. Chapter 5

** New Zealand--Five years ago**

Orlando rubbed his eyes and stared into the makeup mirror. "Fuck I hate those contacts." He said and reached to grab his bag.

"Orlando? Whining about contacts rule," Viggo drawled.

"Cunt." Orlando said and flashed him a smile. "Yer just pissy 'cause I get to be prettier than you."

"Yeah, because being 'pretty' is something I've always aspired to be," Viggo snorted.

"Hmmph." Orlando sniffed and headed for the door.

"Where you going? It's Wednesday," Viggo said, cocking his head to the side and looking at Orlando, puzzled.

"Oh - uh - yeah." Orlando rubbed at his nose, shuffling his feet. "I'm headed to Marton's."

"You're going where?" Viggo's jaw dropped staring at Orlando. "But it's been what- a week?"

"Yeah, almost two." Orlando said, still fidgeting.

Viggo sat up and leaned forward, staring harder at Orlando, studying his body language. "You like him."

"No, I mean I like him - you know - but not like that." Orlando stopped and stared at Viggo, lifting his chin. "Fuck off Vig. It's not like I'm gonna run off with the guy. He's a great lay, that's all."

"Who else you fuck this week?" Viggo asked, leaning back in the chair again, a strange smile on his face.

"Nobody." Orlando said with an evident sniff. "Not that it's any of your bloody business."

"Now, don't get sensitive there, Orli," Viggo said, more than a little bit amused. "I'm just saying- I'm a great lay. And the same week you fucked me, you fucked who- Dom and ...John?" his eyes sparkled.

"I have never fucked John! Yeah, you and Dommie and - oh fuck off Vig. It's - I - John? You cunt! My dick's gonna draw up and hide just at thought of that!" Orlando said, eyes flashing.

Viggo threw back his head and laughed, Orlando's indignation too much. "Christ, Orlando- listen to yourself? What are you so upset about- well, other'n the John comment, I suppose," he conceded.

"Marton's a nice guy, that's all. And man, have you looked at his eyes, and he's got a great dick." Orlando reached for the door. "It's no big deal Vigs, it'll wear off." He said, flashing another smile.

"You sure you want it to wear off?" Viggo murmured. "More important- does he know it will?"

As Orlando out the door he said over his shoulder, "yes and yes, cunt."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Craig looked up as Marton walked into the trailer. "Hey, haven't seen much of you lately. How're you doing?"

"I'm good," Marton looked up with a wide grin. "I'm great, actually."

Craig raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Yeah? Great huh? Any reason?"

"It's just... Christ, Craig. I feel like I'm a bloody fifteen year old with a crush, and I don't even care. He's like no one I've ever known."

Craig looked down, scratching at his arm. Looking up at his friend's smiling face, he said, "Well, I won't argue with that." He cleared his throat. "Come out with David and I tonight. Have some dinner and we'll tell stories on each other."

Marton squirmed, then grinned. "Can't. I'm seeing him tonight. Another time?"

"Marton, c'mon mate. Let the kid go play with the hobbits for the night. They used to entertain him just fine before you got here."

"Craig- you aren't getting it- I want to see him tonight. It's not like I'm just showing up to provide entertainment," Marton rolled his eyes, grabbing a bottle of water from the small fridge.

"Marton, you aren't thinking this is anything more than a set fling, are you? Because that's all it is I guarantee you that's all he's capable of." Craig said quietly.

Marton didn't answer, tipping the water bottle back, draining half of it in one pull.

"Marton, I - I'm just looking out for you."

"Craig- I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, and I hope you know I love you too." Craig's smile somewhat reserved.

"I know you do. Look, I'm happy. I like him. Can't you just be happy that I'm happy? I wouldn't have thought you'd be the type to buy into on-set gossip."

"Marton, it isn't gossip, okay?"

Marton finished off his water and tossed the bottle towards the trashcan, growling when he missed, and heading for the door to the trailer.

"Marton!" Craig took a step toward his friend. "I'm sorry, I just don't want you to get hurt. Marton?"

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Craig. But I'm not a kid. And neither is he. Just let it go, please." He took a deep breath and let it out, unclenching his hands, not even knowing he'd tightened them in the first place. "I don't want to fight with you."

Craig watched Marton for a heartbeat before he shrugged, a tight smile on his face. "Yeah, none of my business anyway, right? I don't want to fight either so - still friends?"

Marton rolled his eyes and grinned. "Of course we're still friends. Dinner tomorrow- on me."

"Sounds good, call me." Craig said.

Marton grinned, and took off, heading for the car park.


	6. Chapter 6

** New Zealand--Five years ago**

Orlando had pulled off his shirt and, with a cheeky grin tossed it to Marton. He was moving to the music at the edge of the dance floor. The beat and thrum moved him and he spun and swayed. Catching Marton's eyes, he lifted his hand and sucked three fingers into his mouth and winked.

"Cheeky bastard," Marton growled, dropping the shirt on the table and getting up, ignoring the whistling and catcalling from the rest of the table as he stalked across the dance floor to join Orlando, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around him, fingers teasing at his waistband. "You wanton- you don't care that the whole club is watching you, do you?" he snorted, moving with the music, grinding up against Orlando.

Orlando arched back, lifting up on his toes, throwing his head back on Marton's shoulder. "Mmm, don't care if the whole world is watching as long as you are too. He lifted his arms and locked his hands behind Marton's head, letting the music move him as he swayed against Marton.

"And how the fuck am I supposed to not watch you when you're doing this, huh?" Marton purred into his ear, fingers digging in against his hips.

Orlando lifted and rubbed, feeling Marton's hard, denim covered cock slide against the cleft of his arse. "What do you - uh fuck yeah." He said, teeth clenched as Marton pushed against him. "What'd ya want to watch me do, hmmm? Anything."

"God, yeah. Anything you want," Marton breathed, his lips brushing Orlando's ear.

Orlando dropped his hands and grabbed Marton by the front of his jeans; never looking back he tugged and walked them off of the dance floor. Leaning his head back he said, "Do you trust me?"

Realizing that asking 'why' would prove that he didn't, Marton nodded. "Yes."

Orlando raised his eyebrows and grinned, still leading the man. At the back of the club he walked them into the restroom and straight to the last stall. He closed the stall door behind them and wrapped his arms around Marton, crushing their lips together.

Marton moaned softly into the kiss, pressing him back against the door, breaking off to grab a quick breath. "Are you serious," he murmured, running his fingers up and down Orlando's side.

"MmHmm." Orlando said with a grin and reached down and popped the button on Marton's jeans. He sunk one hand in and petted a finger across the curve of warm flesh. Pulling his hand out, he gently pushed at Marton. "You said you want to watch, yeah?"

"Watch, feel, suck, fuck, do you honestly think I can think right now?" Marton groaned, fighting the urge to pout as Orlando pulled his hand away.

"Okay gorgeous, here." He rolled Marton's jeans and boxers down just enough to expose the long hard cock. Repressing a groan, Orlando squeezed the warm flesh once and then placed his hands on Marton's hips and backed him up. "Sit." He said with a leer and quickly unbuttoned his own jeans and pushed them down, pulling his erect cock out and cupping the head.

Marton stared at Orlando, his cock now conveniently at eye level, so at least he wasn't straining his neck trying to look down at him. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't going to wring Orlando's neck for tormenting him like this.

"Okay, few rules." Orlando said, hand still moving slowly over his cock as he spoke in a normal conversational tone. "You sit, nice and comfy, you don't touch yourself or me - you just watch. And when I'm done, you can fuck my mouth as hard and as fast as you want." He got quiet for a minute as someone entered the restroom, he grinned at Marton and waited through the noises of the man using the urinal and washing his hands. He turned back to Marton as the restroom door swung shut. "Deal?"

"I'm going to kill you," Marton growled hoarsely, desperately wanting to touch his aching cock, pausing a moment before looking up at Orlando. "Deal."

"Oh and shhh, don't want anybody to hear us." Orlando said with a grin and then leaned his shoulder back against the stall door, hips jutting out as he began to stroke his cock in hard fast jerks. With the other hand he twisted and pinched at his nipple, small sounds of pleasure rising out of him as his legs begin to tremble. Sweat shone on his chest. "Oh fuck yeah." He mumbled, chewing on his lip.

"Bossy little fuck," Marton murmured, his fingers digging into his thighs as he watched Orlando, cock throbbing hot and hard against his stomach. His eyes closed for a moment, moving his hand long enough to run it through his hair, then returning it to his leg, wishing like hell he could get away with a quick stroke of his cock, his breathing getting faster. "Quiet yourself," he murmured, his voice low and strained.

Orlando huffed out a giggle, hand moving faster, tightening. "Mmhmm, yeah." He whispered. Moving the hand from his chest, he reached and cupped his balls, tugging and squeezing a bit. He felt the sparks start to build as the sensations swirled in him. In a low dark voice he said, "wish I was inside you, fucking you hard, sweaty and hot and - oh fuck yeah - deep, fuck!" He bit off the cry and leaned forward, cupping his cock as he pulsed out from between his fingers, shoulders quaking as he came.

Marton started cursing under his breath about the time Orlando started to speak, switching over to Hungarian as he came, shaking almost as hard as Orlando. Unclenching his fingers from his legs, he drew Orlando's hand towards him, cleaning it completely, then stood and kissed him hard, pressing him back against the stall door. "I am going to pay you back in ways you can't even dream of for this," he purred, his lips against Orlando's ear.

"Fuck I hope so mate." Orlando said with a soft laugh. "So how do you want me? Hmm, knees? Sitting? Hmm? Tell me how you want me to suck you, hmmm Marts."

"You're not kneeling on the floor of the toilet- god knows what disgusting things people have done in here," Marton grinned, shifting so their positions were reversed, his back against the stall. "Should make you do the same thing- you have any idea how hard that was to watch?" he growled, lips still against his ear.

Orlando wrapped his fingers around Marton's cock and tugged once. "Hard?" He chuckled. "I'd kneel for you, Marton." He slid down the man, sitting on the toilet and gripping the firm lean hips. "I'll watch if you want, but wouldn't you rather come in my mouth?"

"Hard? I'm fucking granite!" Marton protested, gritting his teeth as Orlando's hand moved over his cock, shivering at Orlando's words. "Yes, your mouth- Orlando, please?"

Orlando leaned forward and took just the head of Marton's cock into his mouth. Tightening his lips around the head, he flicked his tongue back and forth, sucking gently.

Marton bit down hard on his lip, his head leaning back and thudding against the door to the stall, hands curling into fists at his sides. "So. Much. Payback." he gritted out, his voice a moan.

Smiling as best he could, Orlando squeezed his fingers hard into Marton's hips and swallowed him deep, as he pulled back slightly he heard the restroom door open. He laughed through his nose as he recognized Dom's voice yelling. "Fuck off cunt, I've gotta take a piss, I'll be right back."

Orlando glanced upwards at Marton, eyes shining with amusement.

_Christ!_ Marton mouthed, managing not to voice the curse through a supreme effort, glaring down at Orlando. _Don't you dare, you bastard_ he thought, his fingernails digging into his palms, trying to slow his breathing.

Orlando's whole body shook with silent laughter and he sunk his mouth onto Marton, letting the head nudge at the back of his throat. He lifted his eyebrows and sucked.

"Bunch of fuc - what's this now." Dom's voice said from outside the stall. "Two pairs of feet, is it? Hmmm, what's that? They're facing each other and since tha's damn near an impossible position standing, then it's either a bit of a hand job, or one of Orlando's world famous blowjobs. Either way, I'll just leave ya to it then. Oh, nice boots Marton."

Orlando pulled his mouth off of Marton as the door closed and leaned his head on the man's thigh as he laughed.

"Oh my god," Marton breathed, his face flaring crimson as Dom's words sank in, sagging against the door to the stall. "Oh my god. Oh my _fucking_ god! He's going to tell every one of them!"

"Yeah he is, he'll probably get Elijah to have the DJ make an announcement." Orlando said, pressing his face against the crease of Marton's thigh still laughing. "Sorry, sorry, hey, do you want to just go? Would that be better?"

"Are you kidding?" Marton's jaw dropped open, staring down at Orlando. "He's up there, telling everyone you were sucking me off in the bathroom, I'm going to get teased for weeks, and you think there's a chance I'm going to walk out of this room without it being a reality? No bloody way!"

Orlando snorted out a laugh. "Fuck, I love you man!" He said and then sunk his mouth on Marton's erection as deep as he could go.

Letting out a clearly audible moan before literally covering his mouth to keep the sound back, Marton thrust up into Orlando's mouth, a few moments passing before his lover's words sank in. _You what? You...what!?_ he kept repeating over and over again, his body taking over as he fucked Orlando's mouth, his thoughts distracted, his hand dropping to his side as he came, shivering as Orlando swallowed around him again and again, his eyes closed in release.

_Christ. Love you too._


	7. Chapter 7

** New Zealand--Five years ago**

"...but I thought so, don't you?" Orlando trailed off mouth open, he reached and tugged at Viggo's sleeve. "Oh fuck me, who's that?" He said, nodding his head toward where a man was standing with a PA.

"Orlando, we're in the middle of the catering tent, I'm not going to fuck you," Viggo repeated his stock sentence, modified of course, before looking up and seeing where Orlando was nodding. "Ah- that's Eomer."

"Yeah, and once again Vig, didn't stop you in the costume trailer." Orlando mumbled, chewing at his fingernail. "Bloody fuck, look at those lips. Eomer? You wanker, you just do this, don't you?" He looked back at Viggo and squinted at him. "What's his name, c'mon Vig."

"Duplicating Elijah's bad habits rule," Viggo said, lightly slapping Orlando's hand away from his mouth. "Karl Urban- one of the Kiwi actors on the film. He's a friend of Harry Sinclair's," Viggo said, unable to hold back a smirk. "I _know_ you remember Harry."

"Fucker." Orlando said and tucked his hand in his pocket. "Too many fucking rules." He grumbled. "Karl, huh, great lips. Who?" He glanced at Viggo, frowning and then broke into a smile. "Oh yeah, Harry. Incredible fucking hands. His fingers were huge." He said and turned back to watch the other man.

Viggo watched Orlando out of the corner of his eye, leaning back to give him a better look. "So... Orlando? How's Marton?" he said casually.

"Who?" Orlando muttered and then turned to look at Viggo. "Oh, Marton. He's fine, why?" He asked with a frown.

_Uh huh._ "Nothing. Just curious. So- you coming out tonight?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah. About what, nine? Huh?" Orlando said in a distracted voice, already moving toward the dark haired man across the tent.

Viggo rolled his eyes, pulling a notebook out of his pocket and checking the date. "Astin and Billy. Fuckers," he sighed, flipping through his wallet as he went off in search.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

Marton cursed lightly under his breath as he came into the club. He was fairly certain he and Orlando had said they were going to meet here when they'd talked about yesterday, but between traffic being a bitch and the fact that he'd stopped by Orlando's place first- he was a lot later then he'd expected to be. "And the litre of water in the car while I was driving probably wasn't the best plan either," he muttered, ducking around people as he headed to the washrooms in the back.

Orlando leaned against Karl and said. "Close your eyes and feel it. That's what I fucking love about dancing, about just coming out here. It's like you can feel it." He placed his hand flat against Karl's chest, fingers spread wide on the thin material of the t-shirt. He smiled, saying. "Here, you can feel it inside, it's like your blood starts to pound with it - it's better than any fucking high in the world." He moved his hand and leaned back a bit, keeping their hips in contact and smiled.

"Well, there's that and getting to watch you moving your arse across a dance floor..." Karl said, his low voice carrying clearly to Marton, who was standing not ten feet away, watching the pair of them together, the sense of not so much deja vu as complete repetition of something that had happened _to him_ hitting him like a punch in the gut.

"You have any good reason why we're still in this hallway and not in the backseat of my car with your mouth wrapped around my cock?" Karl added, moving his hands to Orlando's chest and sliding them down, his hand pressing hard against Orlando's denim covered cock.

"Oh fuck me. No good reason at all. C'mon, I know a great place not far from here." Orlando groaned out and grabbed Karl's hand, pulling him toward the side exit.

Marton sagged against the door frame as he watched them go, all the things he wanted to do running through his head- yell at Orlando, hit Karl 'til he bled, turn and walk out of the club and pretend he hadn't seen what he just had.

Craig turned the corner in time to see Orlando and his pretty d'jour--_Fuck, Karl of all people,_\--leave pawing each other. Marton was leaning against the door. "Bloody Christ." He walked up and put his arm around his friend. "Marton, c'mon mate."

Taking a moment to register that someone had just put their arm around him, Marton looked up slowly, confused and hurt. "Craig?"

"Yeah, let's get a drink. They've gone--Orlando and Karl, they've gone. Come with me now." He took Marton by the arm and led him toward the bar.

Marton let Craig drag him wherever he wanted, still in a daze, Orlando's words repeating through his brain on a loop. "Karl. That was Karl," he murmured. "And Orlando. Karl and Orlando?" He asked, looking up at Craig, begging him with his eyes to tell him he hadn't seen what he just had.

_Okay, I need to get him out of here. The hobbits and that pack are NOT going to see him like this._ Craig thought quickly and pushed, tugged Marton toward the door. Guiding him to the parking lot and settling him into the car, Craig got in the driver's seat and started the engine. He was careful to NOT drive down Welain Drive and pass the alley where the curry place parking lot was. "Let's go to mine, I've got plenty of scotch."

Nodding, then absently realizing that Craig wouldn't have seen the gesture, between the dark and the fact that he was driving, Marton murmured a very quiet "Okay," turning his head and staring out the window while they drove.

Craig drove in silence, pulling up in the driveway after a bit. They sat and listened to the engine tick as it cooled. Finally Craig opened his door, saying, "Marton, hey, we're here. Let's go inside." He walked toward the front door, hoping Marton would follow.

His reaction time still slow, Marton took a moment to realize what Craig had said, opening his door and following Craig into the house, shaking his head at Craig's offer of a drink, then changing his mind and nodding, wandering into the living room, picking things up at random, placing them back exactly where he'd found them.

Craig walked into the room and handed Marton the drink. "Kind of like getting kicked in the balls, isn't it? You want to talk or want me to get you drunk?"

Taking the drink, Marton stared at it for a few moments before tossing it back and handing the glass to Craig. "You want the truth?" he said, his voice low and tinged with bitterness. "I want to call him," he admitted, shaking his head, disgusted with himself.

Craig walked into the dining room and brought the bottle back with him, sitting it on the end table and then nodded at Marton. "To cuss him or--or ask him to come back?" Craig asked swirling the liquid in his own glass.

"Don't know," Marton said, pouring himself another drink. "Keeps changing," he added, starting to feel numb again, his responses coming out wooden.

"Yeah, I cussed him, I think David asked him to come back." He shrugged, frowning at his glass. "I am really sorry Marton. If it's any consolation at all, and I'm not expecting it to be, he was with you longer than anyone. And--from what I hear--he didn't play with any of his fuck buddies while he was with you. That makes you--special?" Craig said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Marton set his drink down on the table, staring at Craig. "You? _David?_" He leaned back in the chair, running his fingers through his hair and tugging hard, unable to keep his eyes focused on Craig's. "Christ when you... what--warned me? I just thought it was about the age difference. About him being a flirt. He... you?"

Craig listened to Marton and recognized the tone of voice, the set of his shoulders; he was incredulous that he had let this happen. And Craig knew that was exactly how Marton felt--that he had _let_ this happen. "Marton, I swear I thought maybe this time, he'd be different. He's just--it's--it's just the way he is, I actually don't think he can help it." Craig leaned and poured another glass full of amber liquid. "I really am sorry."

"I love him, Craig. I fucking love him," Marton all but spat, rubbing the palm of his hand over his eyes, then looking up again, pain shining in his eyes. "Did it have to be Karl?" he said, trying to manage a smile and failing.

Craig leaned back, stretching his legs out. "Karl just got here. There's no way he knows about you and Orlando yet, and he probably wouldn't have said anything to Orlando." Craig took a sip. "It was just one fucked up coincidence. He was probably giving Karl his 'feel the music in your blood' spiel. He didn't expect you to walk up on it. Probably."

"Better than any fucking high in the world," Marton murmured, swallowing hard. "I'm an idiot."

"No, you're a man--and he's--fuck Marton, he's bloody sex on legs. Let it go. C'mon sit down here and let's get pissed."

"Okay. Craig?" Marton started, biting his lip and trying to figure out how to ask. "Did you...were you..." he paused again and swallowed hard, falling silent.

Craig looked down at his drink, feeling the slow thump of his heart, after a minute he looked up. Expression neutral, eyes clouded he said, "Yeah Marton I did, I loved him so fucking much." He smiled, a tight sad smile. "It gets better, after a while, it--gets better."

"I'm sorry," Marton said, his voice sincere, looking Craig in the eyes and holding his gaze for a few long moments. "It gets better huh?" he said, giving Craig a sad smile and filling up each of their drinks again, raising his in a mock-toast. "Liar."


	8. Chapter 8

** New Zealand--Five years ago**

Orlando walked in to the trailer, grinning. He saw Viggo and smacked a kiss on his cheek before grabbing an apple out of the bowl on the counter. "Fuck man, I'm knackered. Running on no sleep." He said laughing.

"Spare me or share, but don't just brag," Viggo muttered, marking his place in his script, knowing he'd not be able to get anywhere on it so long as Orlando was there.

Orlando slung a leg over Viggo's lap and nestled down, grinding against him and smiling. He buried his face in Viggo's neck and sniffed, pulling back with a grin. "Fuck you smell good." He stood up and took a bite of the apple, chewing and talking at the same time. "Oh yeah, the hobbits and Karl and I are going to the club on Queenburg Street tonight, you wanna go?" He asked as he walked to the door.

"Tease. I'll think about it-oh- how is Karl anyway?" Viggo asked, picking up his script again, but not looking at it yet.

"You wouldn't believe his mouth. Fuck. He's got the best tongue. I swear to god Viggo, it's better than yours. No fucking lie." Orlando said, serious expression, eyes wide.

"Well, that was either a compliment, an insult, or a definite case of oversharing," Viggo mused. "Possibly all three at the same time, knowing you."

"Yeah, I'm talented." Orlando opened the door and started out. "See ya later Vigs."

"See you later. You say goodbye to Marton?" he asked, starting to read his script again, lifting his pencil and making a few quick notes in the margin.

"Marton? huh? Orlando stopped, brow furrowed.

"It's his last day on set. Craig's driving him straight to the airport from here- he just came by to say goodbye to a few people. I thought you would have seen him," Viggo shrugged.

"Uh uh. Is he at the sound stage by the tent still?"

"How the hell would I know?" Viggo snorted. "Worth a try anyway."

"Cool" Orlando bounded down the stairs, slamming the trailer behind him.

"Better tongue than me... little bastard. Nobody has a better tongue than me," Viggo muttered, giving his head a shake and immersing himself in the script again.

Orlando jogged through the parking lot, stopping when he saw a tall dark man across the way. Smiling he headed toward him. When he got close Orlando called out, "Marton! Hey Marts!"

Marton cursed under his breath, closing his eyes and gathering himself before turning around and looking at Orlando. He'd been hoping to make it out of Wellington without seeing him again, but it seemed that he was cursed with perpetual bad timing. "Orlando," he said, his voice neutral.

Orlando loped up to Marton and threw his arms around him. "Hey, Viggo told me you were leaving. I wanted to say bye. You hadn't been around much lately. Are you leaving now huh?' He asked, looking around.

_I haven't been around much lately? You fucking cunt!_ Marton had to physically stop himself from snarling at Orlando, forcing a bit of a smile. "Yeah, you've been a difficult guy to track down. I'm going home."

Orlando frowned then smiled again. "Yeah? I've been around. Anyway. Well cool, I didn't want you to leave without saying bye. It was great Marton. Really, you're a great guy and--man--just thanks for everything." Orlando said happily.

Marton violently resisted the impulse to snort when Orlando said he'd been around. _Yeah, like the entire fucking set didn't know that. Well, everyone but me, anyway._ "It was nothing, Orlando," Marton smiled, managing to keep his tone warm. "Take care of yourself." _You're good at that._

"Sure and you too." Orlando hugged Marton again and then turned to leave, calling over his shoulder. "See you Marton."

_No, you won't._ "Goodbye," Marton called back, watching after him a long time after he'd disappeared from view. "No, you won't."


	9. Chapter 9

** Spain--During KoH Filming **

Orlando walked into the hotel bar and looked around. _Man, this had been a boring set so far._ He thought. _Not that any of them would ever be like Rings, but Troy had been fun. Bean didn't fuck guys, but he drank like a hog and that Bana._ Orlando grinned and fidgeted just thinking about him. Orlando had been looking for Marton since he had seen him on set the week before, but the man must be busy as fuck. Orlando looked to the left and bounced on his toes as he saw Jeremy. He was an old guy, but fuck he was sexy. Orlando headed over to him, standing close at his elbow and smiling at him.

Jeremy took a long sip of his scotch, savoring the drink, not turning to look at the man beside him. "Orlando," he nodded, his voice a low growl, as always. "A drink for you?"

"Mmm, yes please." Orlando said. "A beer would be great."

Jeremy snorted, getting the waiter's attention. "Glenfiddich - the fifteen year, and put the lad's on the rocks," he ordered. "Neat for myself."

Orlando blinked and sat down in the chair next to Jeremy, leaning in a bit to smell the man. He smiled and brushed his knee against Jeremy's. "That sounds brilliant." Orlando said.

"Mmm," Jeremy murmured, pushing Orlando's drink closer to him as the bartender placed it in front of him, taking another measured sip of his drink.

Orlando took a sip of the drink, wrinkling his nose a bit and thinking a splash of cola and a squeeze of lime would make it taste real good. "So what've you been doing? There's not much around to do. Um, so Jer - do you dance?"

Jeremy turned slowly, looking at Orlando for a long moment, before turning back to his drink, finishing it in one steady pull, and placing his glass back on the coaster, pulling his wallet out and dropping a few bills to pay for the drinks. "I'll see you on set, lad," he said, standing and clapping him on the shoulder, then turning and walking out of the bar.

Orlando's mouth opened and closed and he blinked. _Well fuck me--or not._ He thought and frowned at the drink in front of him. Getting the bartender's attention, he ordered a beer.

After a few hours and more than a few beers, Orlando found himself standing at Jeremy's hotel door, tugging on his t-shirt and grinning. Lifting his hand he knocked quickly on the door.

Muttering under his breath, Jeremy knotted the towel around his waist, dripping wet from the bath. He jerked the door open, already glowering at whoever was on the other side. "What?" he growled.

Hey Jer!" Orlando said, gaze sweeping up and down the man. He blinked happily and licked his lips. "Can I talk to you a second?"

"Jeremy," he stressed the last syllables, his glower not dimming in the slightest. "Must you?"

Orlando walked past him, into the room. "You left and it's still early." Orlando sat in the chair, crossing his legs and brushing at his jeans. "You want to get some dinner?"

Jeremy shut the door loudly behind him, fairly incredulous. "No, actually I was fairly content with my evening as it was progressing before you showed up at my door. You said you wanted to speak to me- go ahead." Jeremy folded his arms across his chest and waited.

Fortified by beer and a more than heavy dose of self-appreciation, Orlando stood fluidly and walked to stand in front of Jeremy. Lightly running his finger through the glistening hairs on the man's chest, Orlando said in a low voice, " Well, I thought we could get to know each other better. You're a good looking guy, and this is a boring town." Orlando cocked his head and shrugged.

"What in the bloody FUCK are you doing, you arrogant child!" Jeremy snarled, grabbing Orlando's wrist and pulling it away from him, getting inches from his face.

"What?" Orlando sputtered. "What? C'mon mate, I'm not talking about getting married, but we could just have some fun."

Jeremy gave Orlando a shove, tossing him away from him. "Sit down," he ordered, pointing at the chair. "Don't you bloody move."

Orlando sat, frowning and confused. "What the fuck Jer? It's not like I'm some bloody virgin!"

Crossing back over to Orlando in a few long strides, Jeremy placed both hands on the arms of the chair, leaning in close again, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "You are a spoiled, indulged, arrogant pup, with a sense of entitlement that rivals many that I have seen in my career- and I've worked British theatre. I was any less of a professional, I would give you the thrashing you soundly deserve, and clearly never got as a child, but since we are both due on set tomorrow and we have not yet started shooting anything where you can afford to look like you've just gotten your arse kicked, I will stake you to some valuable advice."

_What the fuck?_ Orlando blinked. "Huh?"

"Oh for gods sake," Jeremy rolled his eyes and cuffed Orlando sharply upside the head. "Pay attention. First of all, treat your fellow actors with respect, instead of expecting them to fall on their knees for you- literally or figuratively. None of us are being paid to, or required to pander to you, and we're not remotely interested in doing so. Second, if you ever call me 'Jer' again, or intrude upon my private life or time without invitation, you will regret it. And third," Jeremy said, grabbing Orlando by the scruff of his shirt and hauling him towards the door, opening it and tossing him out into the hallway, "on your best day, you wouldn't have a shot with me." He followed him out of the room, pinning him against the wall and staring directly in his eyes. "You're not man enough to take it," he growled, turning around and heading back into his room. "Any questions?"

"Um--uh--no. Fuck--Jer--uh--Jeremy, I just thought--just something to do." Orlando said in a near panic.

"Oh, Christ- all this just because the little diva is bored?" Jeremy rolled his eyes. "Come back in a few years when you've grown up. Actually, strike that. _Don't_ come back. If I'm ever so inclined, I'll be sure to let you know," he said, the sarcasm thick. "Now run away, little boy. Won't do to have you pissing yourself in the hallway," he added, snorting with laughter at the terrified look on Orlando's face, slamming the door behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

** Spain--During KoH Filming **

Orlando had the bottle in the air drinking straight from it when the phone picked up on the other end. "Vig, you fucker!"

It took him a second to realize that the voice was his machine. "You fucker! Where are you! It's--I don't know what time it is--you fucker."

Orlando sat down on the edge of the bed, then leaned back. He was wearing only his jeans. The bottle was gripped loosely in his hand the phone tucked against his ear. "You should be here. We'd tell that wanker who was us, who was the best. He don't know and he called me a puppy diva, fucker."

Viggo stared at the answering machine, his head cocked to the side, totally confused. Clearly it was Orlando... but what the hell was he talking about? Who was a puppy?

"Just cause he's been around for fucking bloody ever. Well so have you and you fucked me and he's too good and he said I couldn't handle it! He ain't seen Bana's dick! I can handle anything!"

"And hello too much information," Viggo smacked the heel of his hand across his head and walked across the room to refill his coffee cup. "Please tell me he didn't try to hit on Brendon Gleeson. There are limits."

"I'm just as good as any of them. Aren't I Viggo?" Orlando sat the phone down and took a drink. Picking it back up he said. "It's not like I'm looking for bloody fucking forever. I know how to go away and I know this is all just for fun!" He screamed and then started laughing, a harsh sound. "I mean FUCK! It's all tran--transs--transunt--sheunt! Fuckers."

"Oh Christ- someone let him drink something other than beer."

Orlando scooted up on the bed. "Have you seen Jeremy? Fuck, man, he's like lean and all brown and I just wanted to lick him all over and he told me to grow up or he'd--he'd beat my arse and he was fuckin' ugly about it and threw me out and he HIT me!"

"Oh, he _didn't!_" Viggo paused. "Oh god- of course he did. This is fucking Orlando."

"'N it's not like I hadn't had my cock in some big names. He dun't know what he's missing, fucker. And some good looking guys too! I mean you aren't ugly and Elijah's cute and Marton--yeah Marton." Orlando took another drink. "You know I fucked Marton? Yeah. He was nice and laughed. He's gonna be here, d'you know that Viggy?"

"Viggy? And I'm not ugly- well, sweep me off my feet, Bloom. Bastard," Viggo rolled his eyes. "And again with Marton- lord, you never bloody shut _up_ about him!"

"What'm I piece of shite?" He said and snorted. "Marton was gonna leave and not even say goodbye, fucker. He just stopped cummin' round. You seen him smile? Huh? And you - you mad bastard. Come to Spain. Please."

"I am not coming to Spain just because Jeremy Irons won't fuck you, you crazy bastard." Viggo leaned up against his desktop, musing about what Orlando had just said about Marton.

"Imma go cause I may go puke now. Fuck off Viggy!" Orlando snorted out a laugh and threw the phone across the room.

"Ow!" Viggo's ears rang from the sharp sound of the phone hitting the wall. "Well wasn't that special."


	11. Chapter 11

** Spain--During KoH Filming **

Orlando was in bed, covers over his head, the same head that was currently pounding with a hangover. His phone rang and he grunted, reaching for it and mumbling into the receiver.

"Now, come on- you went to a good British acting school- lets hear that proper diction you were trained with," A loud voice came from the phone.

"Oh fuck you, bloody bastard." Orlando said through dry lips. "What d'ya want?"

"Hung over, are we? Go get yourself a glass of water and a Tylenol- you're impossible to talk to when you're like this. Or I could sing to you until you decide to play ball...."

"Play with your own balls. What d'ya want Viggo?" Orlando said and curled tighter under the sheet. "Man, I smell. I need a shower."

"That's an interesting order from a man who couldn't get laid last night," Viggo snorted.

"What? I have no problem getting laid, thank you."

"If you say so, diva."

Orlando pulled the sheet off of his head slowly and sat up. "Oh fuck. I called you."

"You called me. Rambled on for a good long time too. So- when do you shoot next with Jeremy, puppy?"

"Oh fuck off. I made my move and he wasn't interested. It's not like there aren't a ton others. Hell I fucked you and Marton."

"I was just glad it wasn't Brendon Gleeson," Viggo said wryly. "And according to you he wasn't just not interested. I could hear the pout through the phone. I knew I should never have let the rules lapse," Viggo sighed dramatically. "Really not used to being turned down, are you?" Viggo grinned.

"Brendon's got a tiny dick. Saw it in costume check." Orlando chewed on his lip. "I've never been turned down by someone that did blokes. I mean Bean turned me down and Billy did too, but that's different, you know. Jeremy was ugly about it."

Viggo shuddered at the mention of Brendon- something he really hadn't ever wanted to know- then furrowed his brow. "He was ugly to you... are you sure he fucks men? He wasn't just insulted or offended or something that you hit on him because he doesn't swing that way?"

"No, he does. He said I wasn't man enough to take it. He said on my best day I wouldn't have a shot. Viggo? That was just fuckin' ugly, you know mate?"

"Well, you don't really take hints all that well, Orlando. What exactly happened?"

"I told you what happened! Fuck it all Viggo. I went to his room, he was all wet and then he threw me out! Fuck, rude bastard. There was nobody here to just have fun and fuck with. Marton just got here, but he told me he wasn't interested and I wasn't as cute as I was at twenty-two. What the fuck, Viggo? But he'll come around, he loved when we were fucking, it was great. He's a lot of fun."

Viggo's head swirled, trying to take in Orlando's line of babble. "Marton said what? I mean, you're not as cute as you were when you were twenty-two- you're different. Whatever happened to you and Marton anyway- besides Karl, I mean. Hell- you two were practically a normal couple for a while there... it was like he fucked the slut out of you for a few weeks."

"I don't know. Things were great and then he all of a sudden just stopped. And what do you mean Karl happened?"

"Oh c'mon, Orlando- I was with you in the catering tent when you saw Karl. Before that, we couldn't pry you off of Marton."

"I really like Marton, but man, you saw Karl. Great lips. But why would that cause Marton to stop coming around?"

"Well," Viggo squirmed, not really sure what to say, wandering through the house and back to his bedroom, lying out on the bed. "I don't know, Orlando- did you usually go to him, or did he come to you? Didn't you ever ask Marton?" he asked, curling up against Craig.

"Ask him what? It just--he--well, I was over at Karl's a lot and he just. Huh."

"Besides, it was probably pretty awkward for Marton, seeing as it was Karl and all," Viggo added, giving Craig a kiss on the shoulder.

"C'mon Viggo. I got a hangover that would kill Dom, I'm feeling like shite and I'm still horny. What are you talking about? Why would Marton feel awkward and why would he give a shit who I was shagging?"

"Because you threw him over for his ex, you stupid bastard!" Viggo said, making very certain to speak loudly and distinctly- accenting all his consonants.

Orlando blinked and pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it for a second before speaking. "His what? Beg your pardon? Whose? I threw who over?"

Craig's eyes flew wide at Viggo's words. _Well this had the potential to be ugly._ He thought, and then on the heels of that, _and I hope if it explodes that little slutty fucker gets it all over him._ He put his arms around Viggo and smiled.

"Orlando- you can't tell me you didn't know that. Everybody knew that," he snorted, ignoring the fact that he hadn't known it before Craig pointed it out to him.

"I wouldn't have hurt Marton. Why would I do that? It was just fun, yeah? You knew that. And Dom, and �" everybody knew that." Orlando stood up and paced around the room. "I didn't know about Karl. Why would I do that on purpose? I liked Marton."

"How long did you and Marton fuck about for, Orlando? A month? Or was it more than that?" Viggo asked, keeping the phone to his ear as he rolled Craig on top of him, leaning up for a hard kiss.

"A couple of months I guess." Orlando said and shrugged. "Why?"

"And you weren't fucking anyone else at the same time, right? I mean, I sure as hell remember that you weren't fucking me," Viggo almost pouted, and then turned the look on Craig, batting his eyelashes.

Craig rolled his eyes and then arched downward, rubbing against his lover. _ Teach you to even think about that wanker._

"Well, no, but it was just so fucking intense with Marton and I just didn't seem--to--why?" Orlando insisted.

Viggo hissed, trying to cut the sound off before talking to Orlando again, speaking a little quicker than normal. "It was fucking intense... you didn't fuck anyone else... went on for a couple months. You were in a _relationship_, you dipshit. And you started fucking his ex, and knowing you, never even told him what the score was. And you wonder why he stopped coming around." Viggo moved the phone away, covering it. "Too many clothes," he mouthed.

Craig smirked and scooted down Viggo's body, letting the shift of skin and clothes drag as he settled between Viggo's thighs. Placing his mouth open against the fabric covered bulge, he blew out a warm breath.

"Is that what he thought? That we were together? And that I fucked around on him?" Orlando stopped pacing and leaned against the dresser. "Viggo, I wouldn't have hurt him like that. I--I really like Marton--liked Marton. Fuck me." He said in a near whisper.

"Orlando, I'm in LA and you're in Spain, and I've got Craig breathing through my jeans against my cock- I'm not going to fuck you," Viggo groaned, arching his back a little. "And you're on your own for this one, Sunshine. Best of luck," he said, hanging up the phone and letting it drop to the ground.

"What?" Orlando squeaked out and then threw his phone. "Fuck!"


	12. Chapter 12

** LA--While KoH was filming--After Viggo hangs up from talking to a hungover Orlando**

Craig smiled, lifting his head. "So, is that the very first time you've ever said no to the little bastard?"

"Be nice," Viggo sighed, wriggling and getting more comfortable. "And no- I tell him no all the time. I wasn't about to fly to fucking Spain for him- that's for sure."

Craig scratched blunt nails along the seam of Viggo's jeans, rasping across the denim. "So, the distance is the only reason you said no? Hmm?" He pushed at Viggo's legs, drawing the worn, soft denim tight over his cock.

"No- I said no because I'm not at his beck and call for whenever he feels like getting laid," Viggo groaned. "Doesn't work like that," he said, spreading his legs a little wider.

Craig shifted up until he could run his tongue around Viggo's naval. He ran his hands up the taut thighs, thumbs digging into the crease at his groin. He licked at Viggo's stomach, and then asked. "Did you fuck him while he and I were together?"

"Jesus Christ," Viggo breathed, writhing under Craig. "Yeah, I did," he said simply, neither bragging nor shying away from the truth.

"Okay." Craig moved one hand and popped the first button on Viggo's jeans. He scrubbed his lightly stubbled chin across the skin exposed in the small space. "I can understand that. He's bloody gorgeous."

"Well that's- mmm-" Viggo cut off, distracted. "That's obvious. But it really wasn't that. We just ... did. Around whatever else was going on."

"But not when he was with Marton?" Craig popped the second button, mouthing the skin now as he moved his hand and cupped the heavy warmth of Viggo's cock.

Viggo muttered incoherently for a moment, took a deep breath and tried for words. "Craig, we've had some pretty fucking strange conversations during sex- but you know that discussing the where's and who's and why's of the times I've fucked Orlando is pretty much going to take the prize here- and that beats the fight we had about what kind of syrup to have on pancakes that time you had me handcuffed."

"I should have poured the syrup _on_ you and forgot the rest." Craig popped the last two buttons, pulling at the fly until he could lick along the dark curve of cock. "So I'm just collecting information. Finding out if you like dark eyed pretty boys." He licked again and then tongued along the base, through the curly hair. "Seeing if maybe--I should just leave."

"Don't you dare leave," Viggo growled, his hips canting up lightly towards Craig's mouth. "You know Orlando and I have always hit it off. But no- I didn't fuck him when he was with Marton. Hell- nobody fucked him when he was with Marton."

Craig gently reached his fingers and freed the thick dark cock, holding it down and licking at the smear of precome on the head. He ran his knuckles over the furred balls and pushed his fingers under them, feeling the heat there. "The little fucker, he broke Marton's heart." Craig said and then dipped his head to sink his mouth around Viggo's length.

"He- ohhhh," Viggo moaned, trying to thrust up into Craig's mouth at the same time he pushed back against his fingers. "Didn't know- careless but not... fuck, Craig!"

Craig pulled at Viggo's jeans, dragging them down further. He scooted and lifted until they were past Viggo's knees and then Craig lay on them, trapping Viggo's legs. He settled back and took Viggo into his mouth again, sucking wetly at the head of his erection as he gripped the base with spit slick fingers. "Mmmhmm. Don't make excuses for the cunt." He said, lifting up a second before resuming bobbing his head.

"Not making- FUCK!" Viggo arched up again. "Not making excuses- explaining. There's... a difference," he moaned, his cock throbbing, the slick heat of Craig's mouth turning him inside out. "He tends to be selfish, and he can be a brat when he wants something or doesn't get something... but he'd- God! He'd never do it- on purpose," he finished, gasping for air, his fingers curling into fists.

"Uh huh." Craig said around Viggo's cock, whether in agreement or tinged with sarcasm was lost as he hollowed his cheeks and opened his throat, releasing his fingers from the thick base and, shoving them under his balls, pushing in with a knuckle, hard.

Not sure if he was being punished for his honesty or rewarded for it, Viggo cried out, tossing his head against the pillows as Craig took him deep, thrusting back against his fingers, feeling his release building, trying to force it back down, wanting to last as long as possible.

Craig ran the edge of his teeth along the ridge cock head. He raised his mouth and lapped his tongue at the slit. "You don't get to fuck him again Viggo, ever. Not him." Craig murmured softly against the damp hot flesh at his lips before sucking it into his mouth deep.

"Hmm?" Viggo murmured, distracted, just missing whatever it was that Craig had said, then suddenly not caring in the slightest. He let out a yell, bucking his hips up hard at the tight suction around his cock, gasping for breath then shouting again as he came, pouring down Craig's throat, his hips thrusting gently one last time before he went limp against the bed, letting out a satisfied groan.

Craig released the spent flesh, placing gentle kisses along Viggo's thigh and laying his head on his hip with a smile and sighed happily.


	13. Chapter 13

** Spain--During filming of KoH**

Orlando lay on his bed, hands folded behind his head and staring at the ceiling. _Fuck Viggo, telling me that shite._ He clenched his teeth and went over details of things that he hadn't thought about in over five years. _Marton had thought they were in a relationship. Fuck, maybe they had been._ Orlando chewed at his lip. He really hadn't meant to hurt - well - anybody. _Fuck._ Sudden decision made, he sat up and pulled on his jeans.

He headed down hall, brow furrowed as he thought what to say.

Marton opened the door, laughing as he walked out the door. "You really are a crazy bastard, Jeremy," he said, turning back and leaning against the doorframe. "We're still on to watch the match tomorrow, right?"

"Only if I provide the scotch. Your taste in alcohol is not quite as bad as young Mister Bloom's, but it's close," Jeremy's rumbling voice came from beyond the door.

Orlando stopped, staring. Marton was standing bare-chested, his shirt held loosely in his hand. Orlando stood in a doorway, peering down the hall and looking at Marton. His dark hair was tufted up and sticking out all over. Orlando almost smiled, remembering how he would run his fingers through it when he was horny and laughing and.. Orlando fidgeted. _What the hell was going on. Marton and Jeremy?_

"Fine- you bring the scotch," Marton rolled his eyes, his thumbs caught loosely in his belt loops as he pushed up off the wall and started down the hall. "But there's nothing wrong with my taste in alcohol," he called back, snorting as Jeremy closed his door extra loud. "Snob," he said, grinning and muttering under his breath.

Orlando pressed back against the doorway as he heard Marton move off down the hall toward his room. He waited until he heard the door close and then slowly made his way back to his room.

Pacing around the room he finally grabbed up his phone and punched in a number. When he heard the familiar voice answer he barked out. "Fuck you!"

The line stayed silent for a few moments. "Well- that's a switch. Usually it's 'Fuck me!'. And the answer is still no, because I'm in LA, you're in Spain, and besides which, you sound like you're in a mood." Viggo said in an amused voice.

"No I'm not in a mood, I'm - I'm - I really hate you Viggo. I had actually started to believe that shite you were spouting about Marton caring about me. I sat here and worried that I might owe him an explanation, or an apology."

"You do owe him an apology," Viggo said, flopping down in a chair and settling in to listen to Orlando, completely ignoring the whole 'hating him' thing. "So what changed that?"

"He's shagging Jeremy bloody Irons."

"Good for him! And so what?"

Orlando sputtered and held the phone out and stared at it for a minute before shoving it against his ear again. "So - so - he told me he wasn't interested and then he ignores me and now he's coming out of Jeremy's room freshly fucked." Orlando was quiet for a second. "So it's obvious that he's over me. So yeah, good for him."

"What the fuck, Orlando- he was last with you over five years ago! You thought he was still carrying a torch? I love you, but seriously- get over yourself." Viggo couldn't help but laugh.

"No! But it just seemed - well - why the hell is he ignoring me then?" Orlando insisted.

"Maybe it's still hard for him to be around you because of it, but do you honestly think he shut down his life to worship at the alter of your magnificence? People move on," Viggo said, his voice still casual.

"I know people move on Viggo. I'm not a child. And no I did not expect him to stop everything, but -" He stopped and paced. "I don't know what I expected. All I know is that since I talked to you he's all I think about. What I did to him."

"So... is it bothering you more right now that he bagged Jeremy, who you didn't, or that Jeremy bagged him?" Viggo murmured, mostly thinking aloud.

"Neither." Orlando growled. "I can't be arsed to care who he shags." Orlando said and sat down heavily on the bed. "It just seems - no - that has nothing to do with it. I just need to talk to Marton, explain that I didn't mean to hurt his feelings. Obviously he took the whole thing to mean more than I knew. If I knew how he felt I wouldn't have - well - I would have - handled things differently. Yeah, that's it."

"How?"

"How what?" Orlando said impatiently.

"You would have handled things differently. How? And you say you don't care who he shags, but that was nearly the first thing you said to me. So think about it- Marton getting fucked by Jeremy... I bet Jeremy does a lot of growling and ordering... very sexy voice- I imagine that would be pretty intense. So how does that make you feel? And how would you have handled things differently?" Viggo explained patiently.

"Shut up." Orlando snapped and then stood and paced the room. "I would have - well - I -" He trailed off. "I don't have a clue what I would have done differently. Maybe I would have paid a little more attention to what I had, how we were." He stopped the circuit of the room. "I don't know."

"How does it make you feel to think about Jeremy and Marton fucking?" Viggo pressed. "Indifferent, aroused, annoyed... you want me to get out a thesaurus? I might have one around here somewhere..." Viggo got up and started looking.

"Fuck off." Orlando said in a distracted tone. "It makes me want to take a bat to Jeremy."

"To Jeremy. Not Marton. That's pretty interesting considering that, essentially, Jeremy picked Marton over you, and yet it's not Marton that you're pissed at," Viggo mused.

In a voice that came out immeasurably smaller than he intended, Orlando said, "I hate that Jeremy saw Marton like that, that he got to - that Marton went to him. What the hell do I do now, Vig?"

"I already told you, Sunshine- I can't figure this one out for you," Viggo said, his voice softened. "What do you think you need to do?"

"I need to talk to Marton. I need to apologize. That's first. And then after that - well after that - I figure it out." Orlando said with a sigh. "Thanks Viggo."

"No problem, Orlando. Good luck with Marton- try not to fuck things up, okay?" Viggo suggested, hanging up the phone.

"Orlando, good luck with Marton? Viggo, what was that? Orlando and Marton?" Craig said from the doorway to the kitchen, a perplexed look on his face.

"Hey- didn't see you there?" Viggo turned around and grinned, shaking his head. "It's unbelievable- as it turns out, Orlando- _Orlando_ has levels."

"No Orlando doesn't." Craig said and walked across the room. "So, what was that about?"

"Actually, I think he kind of does," Viggo contradicted, placing the phone on the counter. "I told you about what happened with Jeremy- well, you heard the answering machine message, right?"

"Viggo, I was there for the conversation afterwards. I heard you explaining to the little bastard what a fool he had made of Marton. In small words so that he could understand it no less."

"Right. Well, considering what you did to me afterwards, can you blame me for forgetting?" Viggo grinned. "Anyway- he's been agonizing about it ever since, and now he's jealous of Marton being with someone else- that same Jeremy Irons, by the way, and he's going to apologize to Marton- see what happens. About time, don't you think?" Viggo finished.

Craig stared at Viggo and then laughed. "Oh for the love of - Viggo, he's just upset that he didn't get Jeremy. It's a loss and Orlando doesn't tolerate losses. Poor Marton. I can't believe the bloody conceit of Orlando." Craig mumbled and moved back toward the kitchen.

"I don't think so- if he was pissed at Marton getting Jeremy, he wouldn't have been jealous of Jeremy- he would have been jealous of Marton... okay, this made a lot more sense a few minutes ago the first time I said it," Viggo frowned. "I think he actually has feelings for Marton- why shouldn't he talk to him? See what happens?"

From the kitchen Craig snorted and grumbled. "Because he is selfish, " He stopped and then said, "Never mind, it's not important. Do you want a beer?"

Viggo looked at him a moment, then shrugged, dismissing it. "Your opinion. And yes. Oh - wait, no. Raincheck? I have a meeting with my agent... half an hour ago," he added, checking his watch and grinning. "See you later?"

"Sure, I'll see you then. Be careful." Craig said as he picked his phone up from the counter. Dialing the number Craig leaned against the counter tapping his finger as the phone rang.

"Hello," Marton said, answering the phone without looking at the number and resting the book he was reading against his chest.

"Hi Marton. How are you?" Craig said, a smile lighting his face.

"Craig? Is that you?" Marton whipped the phone away, checking the number. "It is you- how are you anyway? Christ- I haven't heard from you in forever!"

"I'm great. How are you doing? How's Spain?"

"Spain's all right- wait until you see some of the costumes. Am I being a complete and utter diva if I complain that the white robes make me look fat? Nah, not after all your whining about the Haldir wig making your face... I can't even remember how you described it," Marton grinned.

"Small animal storing nuts." Craig said and laughed. "I can't wait. And white robes huh? So, how is it working with Orlando again?"

"Wow. That was an incredibly unsubtle topic shift," Marton said dryly. "It's fine. I leave him alone, he leaves me alone. It's better that way. We really don't have that much screen time together, so it's not like it's difficult. Although, I have to say, playing the cuckolded husband with him involved is a little too close to memory for me, thanks so much."

"Ahh Marton," Craig said and rubbed his hand against his forehead. He had already decided that Orlando was not going to get the opportunity to hurt this beautiful man again. "Sorry that you're having to even be around the little bastard." Craig said and then paused a second. "And the subject change was because he is the subject I called about. He called Viggo earlier, whining."

"Hey- I took the part, didn't I? It isn't like I didn't know he'd be here," Marton sighed, and then frowned. "He called Viggo? Viggo called you? Okay, I'm sorry, but you've lost me."

Craig chuckled. "Guess I'm not making much sense. Okay, I'm in Los Angeles, visiting Viggo. He - uh - we are together, somewhat. When we're both in the same hemisphere we get together. Anyway, so Orlando called Viggo. He does that quite a bit, when he's feeling down and his esteem needs a boost. The last time he called he had made an arse of himself by hitting on Jeremy Irons and had been told to go away - not so politely though and then he called a bit ago."

Marton rubbed his forehead, trying to take in the barrage of information Craig had just thrown at him. "Okay, you're going to need to hang on a moment while I think that all through. Orlando hit on Jeremy?" he asked, surprised, and yet, at the same time, really not.

"Apparently so. I'm sorry Marton, I just thought you needed to know. I seems that Orlando, being true to form, made a rather messy pass at Jeremy. Who had better sense than the rest of us and put him out on his arse." Craig got quiet for a minute. "And then he saw you leaving Jeremy's room."

"Jesus Christ." Marton closed his eyes, sagging back against the couch again. "It's not like it's any huge secret, or there's anything really there other'n sex, watching football and him making fun of what I drink, but still- he's calling and telling Viggo? And what is he doing spying on me anyway?" Marton said, his voice hot with indignation.

"I'm not sure. Maybe he was spying on Jeremy because it upset him that you two were together. It, amusingly enough, has caused a bit of jealousy in Orlando that you got Jeremy when he couldn't. I can only imagine that he's trying to figure out how to remedy that." Craig said. "I just had to tell you Marton, I can't stand the thought of him trying to hurt you - again."

"I didn't _get_ Jeremy. No one "gets" Jeremy- Christ," Marton opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "Why won't he just let it go? It was five years ago and god knows I've moved past it." _Tried to move past it._

"Maybe that's his problem, not only is he so selfish that he thinks he can sleep with whomever he pleases, but that they owe him something. I don't know Marton, I just think that where Orlando is concerned forewarned is forearmed. So, take care of yourself and don't let him upset you. And let me hear from you, yeah?"

"Yeah," Marton said distractedly, still overwhelmed by all of this- unnerved at the idea of Orlando following him around and spying on him, hating being put in this situation. Once again feeling the way that he had after things broke down in New Zealand. A feeling he hated. _Used._

"Yeah," he repeated, then sighed. "I'm sorry, Craig. I do appreciate you calling me. I'm just a little thrown by this. I've missed you, you know?"

"I missed you too Marton. We don't see enough of each other. When you come back home let me know, we'll get together. Have dinner and a lot to drink, sound good?"

"Sounds perfect. Take care, Craig. Say hi to Viggo for me, all right?"

"Sure Marton. Bye."

Marton hung up the phone, tossing it angrily onto the coffee table, followed by his book, getting up and pacing across the room. _Who the fuck did Orlando think he was?_ he thought, clenching his fists in frustration. Ignoring him wasn't working. Telling him to stay away wasn't working. Maybe it was time to show him.


	14. Chapter 14

** Spain--During filming of KoH**  
Orlando stretched his arms over his head, feeling the pull and tug of muscles. He looked to where Ridley and the tech stood and then stepped forward when Ridley nodded at him.

"Alright Orlando, let's get this one, right?" Ridley said and patted him on the shoulder.

Smiling and offering a tight nod Orlando waited for the marker and then began moving through the scene.

_Every man of arms, or capable of bearing them- kneel. ON YOUR KNEES!_

He waited, muscles tensing with the passion of the moment.

_Be without fear in the face of your enemies  
Be brave and upright that God may love thee  
Speak the truth- always- even if it leads to your death  
That is your oath._

He drew back and backhanded the air in front of Kevin's face, then finished.

_…and that is so you will remember it  
Rise a knight - rise, a knight!_

Ridley called cut and Orlando sagged, the adrenalin pulsing through his lean, muscled frame causing him to quiver. He looked around and saw that a crowd of crew and cast members had formed; ducking his head he moved to the edge of the set, looking up he saw Marton. As his eyes locked with the deep beautiful dark gaze, Orlando made a decision and started toward him.

Marton cursed at himself for watching for so long. He hadn't meant to, but like everyone else, the scene had drawn him in. _Well, we all know he's one hell of an actor, don't we?_ he thought sourly, turning to go.

"Marton." Orlando called, his voice carrying. "Marton, please." He walked within a few feet of the man and stopped.

"What do you want, Orlando?" Marton sighed, pausing but not turning around.

Orlando took a breath and lifted his chin marginally. "I'd like to talk to you a minute, please."

"Honestly, Orlando? I'd really rather not," Marton said crisply, turning to go again.

"I understand. I'm asking, Marton, I'm begging. Give me five minutes." Orlando said and took a step forward. "This has gone on long enough."

"You, begging?" Marton snorted. "I'm not talking about anything here, Orlando. We're in the middle of a movie set, just in case you hadn't noticed that."

Orlando looked around and then pointed. "There. It's quiet, there's even a door. Please. Five minutes?" Orlando stepped toward a room built into the set.

Marton held out a few more moments, his eyes stubborn, then sighed, following Orlando. "This is a waste of time," he grumbled under his breath.

Entering the room, Orlando turned and closed the door behind Marton. A soft light entered from the high windows cut into the walls along the ceiling line. He fidgeted with his tunic. "Marton." He started and then paused, swallowing. "Okay, I owe you an apology. I acted like a bastard back during Rings. You deserved better - you deserve better."

"And you just came to this realization all of a sudden, five years after the fact?" Marton rolled his eyes. "Whether you do or not, bit late, don't you think?"

"Marton, listen. Let me ask you a question. Back then, did you -" Orlando stopped and licked his lips. "Marton did you think we were - what did you think we were, back then?"

Marton folded his arms and looked stubborn. "I thought you wanted to talk. This isn't you talking, this is you asking me questions about things that I've wanted to put behind me for over five years."

Orlando reached and laid his hand on Marton's arm. "I didn't know. I was stupid and I hurt you and I'm sorry."

Stepping back, Orlando's touch sending a jolt through him that he was _not_ comfortable with, Marton tried unsuccessfully to keep the hurt out of his eyes. "I accept your apology- are we done here?" he said, fidgeting.

Orlando pulled his hand back, curling the fingers under and tucking his fist under his chin. "No, I - I've missed you. I - can we - can we try again?" Orlando asked, his brow furrowed.

_You haven't missed me- you miss having someone to fuck around with, and no one here who you are interested in is giving you the time of day,_ Marton stopped himself from saying. "Try again? When exactly did we try the first time? You were just playing around until you found something you liked better."

"Well, that isn't completely wrong, but it isn't completely true either." Orlando stepped closer. "Marton, I was a bastard, we have already established that. I did you wrong, but I want to make it up to you." He stepped close enough to feel the heat from Marton's skin where he had his arms crossed over his chest. "Please." He said, voice dropping low.

"You think this is something you can just 'make up' for? What- bake me a cake, leave a rose on my doorstep?" Marton desperately wanted to move away, but refused to step back, not wanting to admit it. "This is the real world, Orlando, we're not knights swearing fealty or service in exchange for past wrongs."

"No, this is something that I regret and - hell Marton - I don't know." Suddenly Orlando's eyes flew wide. "What do you want? What can I do - I'll swear an oath to you, I'll get on my knees for you. Do you want that Marton? Me, on my knees - here. Everyone out there, and me here kneeling for you."

_Right, fix everything with sex- typical. And here you're trying to convince me that you've changed,_ Marton thought, only just keeping his lip from curling in disgust. "That's what you want, huh? To be on your knees for me?" he deadpanned.

"Yes, if it'll make you happy." Orlando ran his hand across Marton's arm. "I want you to know that I'm sorry, that I really want to try this - us."

_There is no us- you're just pissed because Jeremy turned you down and now you're blueballed and looking for something familiar._ Marton thought, getting more and more annoyed all the time. _You don't have the vaguest clue what being an 'us' means._ "You don't even know what the words you're saying mean," Marton snorted, letting his arms fall, Orlando's hand dropping away.

"Then teach me." Orlando said and folded to his knees, caressing his hands down Marton's thighs. Looking up, dark gaze locked on Marton's beautiful face, Orlando reached long fingers and unfastened Marton's trousers. Opening the fly he ran the tip of his finger over the soft full curve of cloth covered cock. He glanced down, leaning and nuzzling his nose into the V of fabric and inhaling Marton's scent. "I had forgotten how incredible you smelled. I am so sorry." He said softly and rubbed his face against the heavy warmth of Marton's erection.

"Don't- Orlando, don't," Marton murmured, trying to move back. "I'm not asking you to do this."

"I know you aren't asking, but I am." Orlando looked up at Marton, a smile curving the corners of his mouth. "I want to do this - for you. I missed you, how you taste."

_Always what you want- what you missed. This isn't about me at all- this is about you getting to feel better about yourself._ Marton thought, not moving away, but not moving closer either.

Orlando tucked his fingers into the waistband of Marton's shorts and lifted them out and over the thickening flesh, a smile forming as he saw that he could still cause Marton to get hard. With long slim fingers, Orlando reached and pulled the man's cock out and licked a wet line across the head, humming in pleasure at the remembered taste.

Marton bit back a moan, his breath hitching. _This doesn't mean anything, Marton. You know how this works. First he goes to his knees, and then he brings you to yours. And then he breaks your heart. Don't let it mean anything._

"No one has ever tasted as good as you." Orlando said, tugging at Marton's pants until he could get his fingers under the thick base and gently knead his balls. He kissed the head as it stiffened, red and velvety. "God, I love this."

In danger of smiling for a moment in reaction to the compliment, Marton schooled his face back to neutral. _No one, huh? Just how many no one's have you said that particular one to?_  
"You look good there," he murmured. _Like the slut you are. Like I'm one to talk about that, but at least I never hurt anyone. Me, Craig, Dave... how many more, Orlando? I've never hurt anyone. Yet._

Orlando smiled at the words, feeling better that Marton was letting him do this, knowing that he and Marton could make this work. He opened his mouth and lowered it on to the head, swirling his tongue around the ridge and across the slit. He sighed happily and took the length deep, feeling it nudge the back of his throat.

Marton closed his eyes, fisting his hand in Orlando's hair, thrusting gently into his mouth, hissing at the feel of it. "More," he growled, tugging at his hair, remembering vaguely how he'd regretted Orlando not having any hair to tug on back in New Zealand.

Orlando relaxed his throat and let Marton's thrusts control the pace. He ran his tongue against the underside and hollowed his cheeks. With a steady gentle hand he massaged the tight sac underneath.

Marton moved faster, feeling himself losing control, trying to be gentle at first, then forgetting - his hips snapping with every thrust, fucking Orlando's throat.

Humming around the flesh Orlando moaned, encouraging Marton with sounds and touches. He swallowed and whimpered.

Letting out a sound that was almost a sob, disgusted with both himself and Orlando that this had happened, Marton came, fingers tightening in Orlando's hair as he spilled down his throat, his entire body shaking.

Orlando sighed, letting Marton finish, patting at the man's thighs and easing his head back, licking at the flesh before releasing it gently. He pulled back and looked up smiling. "Oh god, I missed the way you taste. I love doing that."

Marton turned away to do up his pants, not wanting to look into Orlando's eyes, unable to process what he was feeling, the scene he'd just watched Orlando shooting running through his head, contrasting with the one from the rushes- the one with Orlando on his knees. _Be without fear, in the face of your enemies. Be brave and upright that God may love thee. Speak the truth- even if it leads to your death. Protect the helpless-_ "-and do no wrong," he said, suddenly speaking aloud as he turned to face Orlando, his eyes dark and scornful. "That is your oath," he said, raising his hand and backhanding Orlando hard across the cheek. "And that is so you will remember it."

Orlando fell backwards, eyes flying wide and hand going to his face. "Marton! What?" Orlando scrambled to stand, his costume getting in his way as it got under his knees and feet. "Marton, what'd I do? Why?" He said, looking up at the man.

"It's not just what you did, Orlando. It's what you are. The way you use people. And I'm not falling for it a second time." Marton looked around the room and sneered again. "At least this place didn't stink the way that alley did. I wonder if David minded. Or Craig. Or Karl. No- don't get up," he warned, seeing Orlando about try to struggle to his feet again. "May as well stay down there. Save you the trouble of having to kneel again when the next person comes around the corner."

"Craig? Karl. Oh fuck, Marton, I didn't know. I was - I fucked up. Please." He got to one knee, trying to stand. "I want to talk - to try and explain, or just - Marton, please."

"No!" Marton yelled, angry now. "What does it take, Orlando? Do I have to hit you across the face again? I don't want your explanations, your excuses, your false promises, or your lies. I don't want to hear it, and I don't want to understand. I don't want you. And if I _did_ love you, it was a mistake. Probably the biggest mistake I ever made, after getting involved with you in the first place, even when I was warned about what you are. You don't always get what you want, and it's well past time you learned that. Because you sure as hell aren't ever going to have me."

"You did love me." Orlando finally got to his feet and reached for Marton. "Please! It wasn't a mistake. Goddamnit Marton. I didn't know! I - didn't know." He was almost yelling by this time.

"I don't care," Marton yelled back, desperate to get out of the room, backing away from Orlando and reaching for the door. "It is a mistake- _was_ a mistake. And it doesn't matter anyway, because I don't love you now." He raised his head and looked directly into Orlando's eyes. "You disgust me," he spat, jerking the door open and walking out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Orlando stood and stared at the door before letting out a scream and kicking the stone wall, cursing and limping backwards.


	15. Chapter 15

** Spain--During filming of KoH**

Orlando paced around the hotel room one more time, stopping to grab the bottle off of the dresser and taking a drink. The beer was warm and flat, and fit his mood perfectly. _Fucking Mortensen._ He stomped across the room again, the entire afternoon had been spent replaying every word that he and Marton had said to each other over the last five years. He remembered everything he had done, and not done - and the conclusion that Orlando had finally come to was that he was a spoiled stupid cunt, that and the fact that it was all together possible that he was in love with Marton Csokas. "Fuck me." He snatched up his phone and dialed.

Craig yelled for Viggo to answer his phone before he remembered that Viggo wasn't in the house. Moving a few pieces of paper and a leaf - painted _blue?_ "Jesus Viggo," Craig muttered and then answered. "Yeah hello?"

"Viggo?" Orlando asked, frowning, knowing he wasn't drunk enough to think Viggo had an accent. "Uh, this isn't Vig?"

"No, it's not. Who is this?" Craig said curtly, biting back a curse as he realized that the paint on the leaf was oil paint, still wet, and that his thumb was now blue.

"This is Orlando Bloom, and who is this?" Orlando said and then deflated some, sitting on the bed. "I want Viggo please." He said in a less stilted tone.

Craig snorted at Orlando's choice of words. "Why am I not surprised," he said dryly. "Viggo's not here, so I can't help you with that."

"Okay, who is this please? Assuming this is his phone, who are you?"

"You don't recognize my voice, do you? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at that either. You probably don't address any of the people you fucked when you can't see them for fear you might use the wrong name." Craig said, gritting his teeth.

"Craig?" Orlando asked. "Yeah. Now I remember. Vig said you were there. How are -" He stopped, Craig's words sinking in and realization of yet another 'mistake' from his past slamming into him. "Oh hell, Craig. I - I'm sorry man. Damn, first Marton, now this."

"Spare me your worthless excuses- what about Marton? What did you do to him this time?" Craig snarled.

"I didn't do - what the fuck Craig? Is someone taking out adverts about me these days? I tried to talk to Marton, Viggo told me - well the bastard bloody well told me that Marton loved me and I was stupid enough to believe him and I threw myself at him."

"Nobody needed to tell me anything, you're in the same film, and it's not like how you are is any secret to me," Craig snorted again. "Just leave him alone- haven't you ruined enough of his life?"

"What are you, his mum?" Orlando said with sudden undisguised derision. "Where is Viggo and when will he get back? And I didn't ruin anybody's life. I never promised anybody anything! Dammit! I never fucking promised anything. I was twenty two - it was all just for fun!" Orlando rubbed his hand across his brow, as he tried to calm down.

"I was there, Orlando- I was there when I watched him _watch you_ put the moves on Karl, just the same way you did on him. And me. I saw his face, you fucking cunt. You don't get to beg off by saying you were just twenty-two."

"He saw." Orlando stood up and began pacing. "He saw Karl and me and, Christ. No wonder. No wonder he hates me." He stopped and concentrated on breathing. "I've got to fix this. Craig, I've got to fix this. 'Cause I think I love him."

Craig's heart stopped. "You what?"

"I - I've got no clue how to do this, any of this, but it's entirely possible that I love Marton." Orlando stopped and blinked then he smiled. "Oh my god, I really do love him. Craig, I need to talk to Viggo."

"You leave him alone- you have no fucking clue what you're talking about," Craig hissed at Orlando, clenching tightly to the phone. "You just can't believe there's someone who doesn't fall to his knees at the sight of you and you can't take it."

"No. Craig, it's not like that." Orlando said, confused at the emotions he was feeling and at anger coming from Craig. "This is right, this is - yeah - this is right. Marton loved me once."

"Well, he doesn't love you now," Craig answered back quickly. "Not after Karl, that's for sure. Why am I not surprised that once again, you're only thinking about what you want. Selfish little cunt."

"You know, fuck off Craig." Orlando said with a growl. "You're a bastard and you were a lousy lay."

Craig's fingers turned white as his grip on the phone tightened. "Huh- that's not what Viggo said earlier today when I fucked him into the mattress... right after we had a good laugh over you and Jeremy. I would have paid good money to see that one, Orlando. I can just imagine you gaping like a fish at the idea that someone didn't want you."

Orlando stuttered, Craig's words cutting through him. He pulled the phone away from his ear and pushed the end button, laying it down on the table. He sat down on the bed and lay back, curling his arms around his knees.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, what was that gate number? Un huh?" Craig held the phone against his shoulder and scribbled the information down as the travel agent rattled it off. "Okay, thanks. I will, goodbye." He tossed the phone on the bed and closed the bag, looking around the room.

Viggo closed the door, shaking his head and laughing to himself, looking forward to the look on Craig's face when he told him about what Dennis had been up to when he'd shown up. "Craig?" he called, tossing his keys on the table and looking around for him.

"Fuck." Craig ran his hand through his hair. "I'm in here Viggo." He called.

Viggo followed Craig's voice to the bedroom, talking as he walked. "Christ, Dennis is a crazy bastard- be glad you didn't come over with me. He was-" Viggo cut off, frowning as he looked around the room. "Did I forget you were going somewhere?"

"No." Craig stopped and turned to look at Viggo. "I know I was supposed to be here for another week, but," He sighed. "I'm going to Spain."

Viggo stared at Craig, completely confused. "Since when?"

"Since I talked to that little bastard Orlando and he's decided he loves Marton, and Marton loves him." Craig said with a sneer and then mumbled. "Arrogant little prick."

"You talked... all right, hang on. One bit at a time- you talked to Orlando? When- I can't remember the last time you spoke to him- you told me it had been years." Viggo said, and then frowned. "And I know you and Orlando don't have the best history, and I understand you don't like him, but he's a friend of mine, Craig."

"I _understand_ that he's your friend, Viggo. He's a lot of people's friend. He called here to whine to you about Marton not falling all over himself in love the way Orlando thought he should." Craig stopped and looked at Viggo and gave him a soft smile. "I'm sorry Viggo, this - you and I, has been great, but we knew it wasn't a forever thing. I - I can't let Orlando tear Marton up again. Marton deserves better than that, better than Orlando."

Viggo put his hands on his hips and looked at Craig. "What you're not saying, but what you're meaning is that Marton deserves _you_. Or that you've decided he does," he said bluntly.

Craig squinted at Viggo; jaw tight for a minute before he spoke. "Maybe he does. Maybe Marton just needs someone that won't treat him like he's the flavor of the month. I'm sorry Viggo, but I need to do this, and I need to do it now."

"Oh- so, basically, you don't want Orlando to treat Marton the way... you're treating me right now?" Viggo rolled his eyes. "I don't need your apology. Although I have to admit I am curious about what it is that took you so long if it's been Marton this whole time for you. Do you actually want him- or are you just scared that Orlando might actually be right?"

Craig looked at Viggo with an incredulous look. "Do you actually think that little bastard is capable of _love_?"

"Why not? Just because he was selfish and thought with his cock when he was twenty-two? Does that mean he can't ever change? And get right off your high horse, Craig, because I'm telling you right now, you're not that much better."

"I beg your pardon?" Craig said. "This from the man that - you know - I don't have time for this. I've a plane to catch." He grabbed his suitcase and headed for the door. "Take it easy Viggo."

"Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, Craig," Viggo said, his tone perfectly polite.


	16. Chapter 16

** Spain--During filming of KoH**

Orlando sat on the bench and scratched the black dog behind its ear. "So what's your name, huh? You're awfully thin." He looked around and dug in his pack, pulling out some wheat crackers. "Here boy." He said with a small smile and then grabbed the pack again when his phone rang. Jamming it against his ear as he handed the dog a cracker he muttered a greeting.

"Come on, now- where's that proper diction," Viggo said with a smile.

"Viggo, hey mate." Orlando said. "What's up?"

"Bit of a strange day, actually. I came home to find Craig packing to leave to come to Spain, because apparently he talked to you and you said that you're in love with Marton." Viggo said, crossing his legs and stretching out on the bed.

"Craig's a cunt. I can't believe you're fucking him."

Viggo sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, apparently you're a selfish bastard, and he can't believe I fucked you."

"Yea well, I can't believe a lot of shite." Orlando said and then sat up. "Wait. He's on his way here? Why?"

"Well, there's the thing. He's either on his way there because he loves Marton, or because he just doesn't want Marton with _you_, but it's one of the two."

"Well, maybe he'll have better luck with Marton. Maybe - yeah." Orlando said in a quiet voice.

"Okay... now I'm lost. Again. What did Craig say to you anyway? He said you were calling to talk to me," Viggo frowned.

"Viggo, you told me - I - I told - shite." Orlando leaned back on the bench. "I cornered Marton, I apologized for being a dick during Rings. I told him I wanted to try and start over, to make it up to him, and then I blew him and he hit me and told me it's a mistake and that I disgust him. So, as soon as filming is over this afternoon for the week, I'm going to get pissed and spend the entire weekend that way."

"Oh for Christ...." Viggo banged the phone against his head a few times. "Are you telling me that to prove to Marton that you felt something for him that was more than just a friendship based around casual sex, you dropped to your knees and blew him?" Viggo asked, sounding exasperated.

"Well - uh - oh fuck me."

"Orlando, you're in love with Marton. I'm not going to fuck you."

"Yeah, I am, aren't I?" Orlando sighed and scratched the dog behind his ears. "Viggo, what the hell do I do now? He actually used the words, 'you disgust me', and I'm quoting there."

"I don't know, Orlando. Who am I to advise someone on a relationship," Viggo snorted, and then turned serious again. "What do you really feel for him? Do you really think he'd be better off with Craig?"

"Craig's a cunt." Orlando said with a snort. "He's as selfish as I am, it just makes him mad because I'm better at it than he is. I don't know, Vigs, it's like I think about Marton and I get all bloody twee. I start thinking about five damned years ago and I want that back."

"Craig has a thing about what happened between you two- how it was different than what happened when you were with Marton," Viggo mused. "He kept asking me if I slept with you when you were with him."

"Christ Viggo! I was twenty-two. I slept with everyone, literally everyone. I would have shagged a pile of rocks if there was the slightest possibility that there was a mouse under them." Orlando said loudly and then looked around, trying to calm down. "It was different. I just wish I'd of known that then. So what, he's going to come here and tell Marton what a bastard I am? He's wasting the air fare, Marton knows."

"You know Craig knows about Jeremy too, right? He was here when you left the voice mail, and we talked about it after I hung up the phone with you," Viggo admitted. "And all I know about him leaving is that he thinks Marton can do better than you."

"Marton _can_ do better than me, but that doesn't stop me from loving him." Orlando sighed. "Great Craig knows about Jeremy. This just gets better and better. So Viggo, what now? What do I do now? Forget about Marton? Walk away? What?"

"Sure. Do that. Walk away, let Craig have him. I mean, he's willing to fly all the way to Spain and throw me over- must mean that he's the one who's supposed to have Marton. Just get out of the way- I mean, you had your chance when you were twenty- two and you fucked it up, right? So just back off and let Craig have a shot- what you feel, hell, what Marton might feel isn't really the issue, right?" Viggo said lazily.

"I hate you." Orlando said. "Okay smart arse. So no, I'm not going to walk away, but did you hear me? I blew him and he said he was disgusted! And he hit me! Well not really, I mean he did, but it was one of my scenes. He said my lines." Orlando rubbed his hand across his forehead.

"I know. Love you too," Viggo shifted, getting comfortable. "And I told you, I think you took the wrong approach. How are you supposed to get him to take you seriously when you're just repeating the same behavior you did in New Zealand? How's he supposed to know what's in your head when you're doing it- know that you're not just being about sex?"

"If you tell me one more time what I did wrong, I'm going to fly to LA and beat you to death." Orlando said and then laughed. "So I tell him I love him and he what? Magically believes me?"

"You were the one who brought it up again," Viggo reminded him. "And I have no idea how you're going to convince him. Know what I wouldn't do though?" Viggo's grin was obvious even over the phone.

"What smart arse? Offer to blow him?" Orlando asked with a shaky laugh and felt some of the tension drain from his body. "I'll think of something. This is too important, he's too important. I'll figure it out."

"You'll figure it out," Viggo assured him. "I have full confidence that you can think with your head and not just with your cock. Good luck, Orlando." Viggo said, sincere, despite the teasing.

"Thanks Viggo. I'll call you."


	17. Chapter 17

** Spain--During filming of KoH**

Craig sat his bag down and checked the number. _Marton's room. Marton._ He smiled and ran his hand through his hair, smoothing out the travel kinks. With a confident smile he lifted his fist and knocked.

Marton looked up from his position on the couch, willing the door to open on it's own, then sighed, getting up with a groan and heading over, setting the bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy he'd been eating on the coffee table. Not that it was helping- these were _nothing_ like what Mum used to make, which didn't make them very useful as comfort food. 'M coming," he muttered, opening the door, his jaw dropping, eyes opened wide. "What the hell?"

"Hi Marton, fancy some company?" Craig said and smiled.

"What- you... Craig! Get in here, ferchrissakes!" Marton said, recovering slightly and pushing the door open, taking Craig's bag from him and setting it aside, then giving him a hard hug.

Craig hugged Marton back. "Hey, it's great to see you. How are you, huh?"

"I'm..." Marton shrugged it off, forcing back the events of the last twenty-four hours. "I'm great now- I can't believe you're here."

"Yeah, I wanted to come see you, talk some." Craig looked around and smiled. "Marton, what are you eating?"

Marton colored. "Mashed potatoes'n gravy. Lots of butter."

Raising an eyebrow, Craig looked at Marton. "Celebrating or pacifying?"

"Celebrating is meat pie and tomato sauce."

"Ah." Craig said and walked over to sit on the couch. "Anything I can help with. I'm a good ear."

Marton shook his head, forcing a smile. "It's done. I just want to let it go."

Craig leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. He was silent for a minute before looking up at Marton. "I don't know that he'll let it go."

Marton sighed and collapsed back onto the couch, looking up at the ceiling. "Craig, I'm gonna need a lot more potatoes if you're gonna talk about him."

"Marton, don't let him do this to you. He isn't worth it. He's a spoiled, self centered little bastard and I can't stand seeing him do this to you." Craig said and reached for Marton's hand.

Squeezing Craig's hand tightly, Marton let them rest back on the couch again. "I know. I'm not. Like I said- it's over. Forgotten. Or it will be soon."

"Soon?" Craig asked. "Why not now? Let me help." He sat up and moved closer to Marton. "I'm here."

"I know," Marton smiled. "And I'm so glad you are. Been way too long since I've seen you, Parker." Marton paused, his brow furrowed, and laughed. "I just realized I never even asked you why you were here."

"I came to see you." Craig said and settled back. "I was worried - " He trailed off. "Orlando called and he was ranting and raving and I got worried. I was afraid he'd upset you." He gestured toward the food on the table. "And he has, already."

"I'll get over it, Craig. I'll get over-"_now hang on a minute- you were NOT going to say get over him. You've been over him for years! Right?_ "Hey- I thought you hadn't talked to Orlando in years," Marton changed topics.

"I haven't. Until he called Viggo to whine about you - again. Viggo wasn't there, so I had to talk to him. And it - he pissed me off. It was the same old Orlando." Craig shrugged. "I got worried about you. You deserve better than him and his bullshit."

"I'm really okay, Craig. I mean, potatoes aside and all, he won't want any more to do with me either. I made sure of that. But it was good of you to think of me," Marton smiled, squeezing Craig's shoulder.

"You're wrong. He's decided that he - well - I don't know what set him off, but he thinks he's got something to prove." Craig shifted and leaned in to Marton, cupping his cheek and brushing his thumb across the man's jaw. "And I've found that I think about you a lot lately." He said in a quiet voice.

Marton froze, staring at Craig, acutely aware that Craig's hand was cupping his cheek and... yes, his thumb was stroking his jaw. "Craig?" he managed, still too surprised to pull away.

Craig leaned in until he could feel Marton's warm breath. "Marton." He said and smiled, stroking the tan cheek. "You deserve better than him."

_Oh. Christ._ Marton shifted, trying to figure out how to pull away without hurting Craig's feelings. "Craig, look... I've known you a long time- we've been through a lot together- this isn't about Orlando, okay?"

"No, it's about you - and me." Craig said with a smile. "Orlando said he loves you, he whined to me about finally realizing it after all this time. I told him that he was a selfish little cunt and he didn't know what love was."

"He _what_? He told you..." Marton's head spun. "He told you he loves me- you told him he was a selfish little cunt... and this is about you and me? How does that have anything to do with you and me- Craig, there is no you and me- there has never _been_ a you and me."

"There could be a you and me, Marton." Craig said quickly and took Marton's hand. "I told Orlando that after that crap he pulled with Karl, was it any wonder you couldn't stand to be around him."

"Craig- I..." Marton pushed away the mention of Karl, trying to gently pull his hand away. "What about Viggo? You told me you were seeing Viggo," he said, trying to change the subject.

"I was, but it was just a good time. We parted friends. I told him I needed to come here and see you, try and not let Orlando mess you about anymore than he already has."

"Look- Craig. I know it was a really long way for you to come, and I appreciate you coming here- as a friend. But I don't..." Marton sighed. "Craig, I don't feel like that about you. I'm sorry, mate."

"You can't still love Orlando. Not after what he did to you?" Craig said adamantly.

"This isn't _about_ him- you were the one who said this was about you and me- but you keep bringing him back up again- why?" Marton demanded, pulling his hand away and moving farther away.

"Because - he - I -" Craig rubbed his hands through his hair, finally asking. "You still love him - don't you?"

"No. I don't know. Christ!" Marton stood up and paced a few steps away from the couch. "Why are you here, Craig?"

"Because I couldn't stand the thought of him getting you and hurting you. I wanted to try and protect you." Craig said and then stood up. "Maybe I was wrong to come."

"Him _getting_ me? Last time you were talking about him being pissed about me _getting_ Jeremy. I'm not a fucking trophy!" Marton said hotly.

"No, you aren't, but you are smart enough to not fall for that little bastard's shite again, Marton." Craig stepped to Marton and ran his hand down the other man's arm. "You and me, just think about it, Marton."

"Look, just leave Orlando out of it, okay?" Marton rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache forming. "Please, Craig- just don't," he murmured, stepping back and out of Craig's reach.

Craig frowned, reaching for Marton. "I'd treat you better than he ever could. Don't you remember what he did? He fucked Karl. He's a stupid selfish kid. You can do better."

"Yeah, he fucked Karl. Yeah, he fucked me, you, David- hell, Craig, if you really think about it, who didn't? He didn't fuck Karl to hurt me. He didn't even know. And why do you keep bringing him up anyway? Why do you keep trying to convince me not to go for him, when I've already told you I'm not?" Marton said, neatly sidestepping Craig.

"Because Marton. He's going to try and convince you he loves you. He's calling Viggo trying to figure out how to convince you that he's capable of loving somebody. Its just more manipulation." Craig said desperately.

Marton sighed. "I just want to put it past me, and you're making that almost impossible. Craig, I'm sorry."

"I won't mention him again, I promise." Craig said and smiled. "Let me take you to get a drink. We'll get to know each other again. C'mon Marton, this will be good for you."

"No. I mean, I'm sorry, Craig." Marton looked up and looked him in the eyes. "It's no."

"Why? Marton, damnit, I came to Spain for you."

"And as my friend, I appreciate it. But I never asked for you to come here as my lover- you're not. You've never been. And either way, as much as I appreciate it, I never asked you to."

"Jesus Christ, you're making a mistake." He stalked to the door and grabbed his bag. "You two deserve each other. Back in Wellington, everyone was shocked that the little fucker stayed faithful to you for the couple of months you two were together. I knew it was only a matter of time. And I was right." He spit the words at Marton.

"Stop throwing Orlando in my face, Craig- Christ! I'm turning you down because I don't love you- I don't feel like that about you! And I don't _care_ about Wellington," he spat back, surprised to realize that it was true.

Craig opened his mouth, and then closed it with a hard click. He nodded once and then left, slamming the door behind him.

Marton sat down on the couch with a thud, staring at the door, his mouth hanging open, then gave his head a shake and reached for the phone.

"Hello? Yes, can I get a triple order of mashed potatoes, gravy and butter on the side sent up to my room right away? Thank you."


	18. Chapter 18

** Spain--During filming of KoH**

Orlando held the tub of ice cream in one hand and the spoon in the other. He scooped out a huge bite and then looked at it, wrinkling his nose he walked to the table and picked up the squeeze bottle of chocolate and upended it into the ice cream, squeezing fiercely. It flowed for a second and then sputtered. He shook it and squeezed again, finally putting the tip in his mouth and sucking on it as he almost collapsed the plastic gripping it. He turned and flipped it over his shoulder into the wastebasket. Stirring the, now chocolate covered ice cream, Orlando spooned out a bite and shoveled it in his mouth. He walked to the bed and leaned over to look at the papers that were spread across the blanket. Talking to himself he read a few pages, moved a few about and then walked to the dresser and picked up a book and flipped through it before laying it down with a sigh.

"This is stupid," Marton muttered to himself. "This is really, truly, stupid. And pointless. And a waste of time. Christ." He took a deep breath and knocked hard on the door.

Standing with his back to the door, Orlando took another bite and called out. "Yeah c'mon in. Put it in the sink in the bathroom, its full of ice. Oh and I'm out of syrup, can you bring more?"

"Oh god, I don't even want to know," Marton muttered, closing the door behind him and walking inside, suddenly afraid that Orlando wasn't alone. "If Brendan Gleeson walks out into the room naked...gah!" he muttered, shuddering.

Orlando picked another book up and trying to not drip melted ice cream on it, opened it to the index. "Yeah, syrup, chocolate. And you wouldn't have any Tim Tams, would you? Oh, vinegar crisps. Do you have any of those? I'd really like some - Marton." Orlando said, blinking at the man standing looking at him. "What -" He hurriedly sat the container down and said, "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you."

"Yeah, I got that." Marton looked down, feeling awkward. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just going to go, okay? This was a bad idea," he said, turning around and heading for the door.

"No! Uh - wait. Let me move some stuff." He gathered up the drift of papers and books and what appeared to be faxed copies of menus from the chairs and couch. Stacking them on the dresser, he took a breath, feeling almost light headed and turned to Marton nervously. "Please, sit down. Can I get you anything? I've got - well beer and ice cream. Out of syrup though." He said and lifted his hand and chewed on his thumbnail.

"No thanks, I've eaten," he said stiffly, shifting in place, and then finally sitting down. "I really don't know what the fuck I'm doing here," he muttered.

Orlando nodded and then sat down on the edge of a chair, hands clasped between his knees. "Yeah, well, I sure don't know either, but I'll try not to disgust you while you're here, huh?" He said and then regretted the words, and tried to soften them with a smile. He bounced his legs in place. "So, yeah."

Marton winced and looked down. "Right. Look, are you sure I shouldn't just go? I don't want to say anything else I don't mean."

_Don't mean_? Orlando frowned and cocked his head. "No, please. I-" Orlando cast about for something to say. He had been planning his speech, reading poetry and trying to figure out how to convince Marton that he was sincere in trying to change, to grow up, but Orlando hadn't finished studying yet. He fidgeted in his chair. "We've got to be around each other for filming. I don't want you to be uncomfortable, or anything."

"I know you talked to Craig," Marton switched topics suddenly. "He was here. And I know you've been talking to Viggo about me- about things going on here."

"Craig actually did it, he actually came here." Orlando said and then stopped talking, shaking his head before continuing. "Viggo? Yeah, he's my friend. I needed some advice, I called him. What the hell did Craig think he was doing coming here?"

"He was here... well, a few hours ago," Marton frowned as he thought about it. "For all I know, he's still around somewhere. He came to warn me to stay away from you."

Orlando huffed out a laugh and rubbed his nose. "D'you tell him you didn't need his warning? That I was doing a good enough job of that myself?" He leaned back, draping his arms over the back of the chair and looking up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry Marton. I apologize - oh fuck man, for everything, and for making your friends get involved in this, whatever this was."

"I didn't ask him to get involved- I didn't want that," Marton said softly, staring at the wall. "I didn't ask him to come either- or ... and I don't even know if he was serious, or just trying to 'save' me from you," he muttered.

"Do you need saving from me?" Orlando asked quietly.

"Not by Craig. Not like that. It's not like there's anything to save me from anyway, is there?" Marton kept looking at the wall.

Orlando tipped his head up and glanced at Marton. "I love you Marton, I wish I could prove it, or show you or something." He let his head fall back against the chair again. "But as idiotic and juvenile as I may be, I'm no threat to you. I'm not going to harm you or even make you uncomfortable."

Marton smiled wryly. "Hate to admit it, but I've never been more uncomfortable then I am right now," he said. "It's hard for me to believe you... I'm sorry for how that sounds, but I'm trying to be honest. If you want more honesty, I'll tell you this. I may be struggling to believe- but I think Craig believed you."

"Yeah, Viggo believed me too. If I wanted either of them, I'd have it made, huh?" He sat up and stared at Marton. "I don't blame you for having - disbelief issues where I'm concerned." Orlando smiled and dipped his head. "Trust me, I've been at a loss trying to figure out how to redeem myself. Viggo's only advice was don't offer to blow you. In case you're wondering, I'd already figured out that one myself." Orlando laughed, a brittle sound.

"You never lied to me," Marton admitted, wincing at Viggo's 'advice'. "You just didn't tell me the truth. And I never asked. And we made a lot of assumptions, I guess. It wasn't your fault that... the next guy for you was the last guy for me. I don't believe it was intentional. Never did, once I thought about it."

"Marton, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'd like to believe I would have made different choices, but I really don't know. It was like being turned loose in a biscuit factory. I didn't have a concept of what I was doing and how it could hurt anyone else. It seemed that everyone shagged everyone else and that's just the way it was." He stood up and paced around the room. "It wasn't until after it was over and I'd already messed things up that I realized that I wanted something different with you. And by then." He trailed off and shrugged. "Man, I could use some of those TimTams right about now. Apparently I need lot's of chocolate when I'm feeling unloved and miserable. Who knew?" Orlando grinned.

"Beats eating potatoes," Marton murmured under his breath. "I don't know what made it different, Orlando- it just was. For me. And Craig tried to warn me, and I didn't want to hear it. And then you just stopped, and I felt like an idiot. For a long time."

Orlando looked at Marton, refusing to give into the need to turn away, to hide his shame. "I'm sorry Marton. You didn't take Craig's advice back then and should have, so you get to take it now. It evens out, yeah?"

"Look- however this works out..." Marton sighed. "Orlando, I'm sorry. For what happened back then, and for what happened on set. It shouldn't have- not like that."

_Works out?_ Orlando thought with a frown and a small glimmer of hope. "You don't have anything to apologize for Marton."

"Don't I?" Marton sighed. "We never talked about it back then. I just let it go on as it was. I never told you how I felt. There was once... you said you loved me. I know now that it was just words- hyperbole. It wasn't a declaration. But I wanted it to be, so it was. But I never did anything about it. And I shouldn't have said what I did on set- or done what I did. So, I am sorry."

Orlando stared at Marton; as if he was a mirror that Orlando needed to look into, needed to see how he was reflected within. "Fine, I accept the apology. So, what now?"

"I don't know," Marton admitted. "I just wanted you to know that. That I was sorry. And about Craig. He told me... hell, Orlando- he told me about Jeremy. What happened with you, and that you saw me coming out of his room," he said, looking shy.

"Craig's been a busy little bee hasn't he?" Orlando said and sighed. "Yes, I made a pass at Jeremy and he put me in my place. Called me some rather unfortunately truthful names and threatened to kick my arse. And then I was walking down the hall and saw you leaving his room." He shrugged, smiling. "I called Viggo, crying about it. And he beat me about the head with my own logic until I realized that I was upset because I was in love with you. Of course there was cussing and name calling involved." Orlando laughed.

"Well, of course," Marton said, managing a smile, and then looking serious again. "Look, Orlando... I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. I just... I don't know what I feel. It's all confused and mixed up with a million other emotions, and besides which, I've eaten the equivalent of a bushel of potatoes, and I'm a little afraid I might be sick on your couch. I'd love to do the super romantic thing and just sweep you up in my arms and carry you off to bed, after professing my undying love, but..." Marton looked at him. "I just don't know if I can yet."

_Yet_. Orlando thought and felt his heart lurch in his chest. _Oh do calm down._ He chided himself. "Potatoes, huh? We've got to work this out to one end or the other or we're both going to get fat and never work again." He said and then stared at his feet a second, before speaking. "I'm not asking for instant answers or declarations. And I don't want to go to bed with you. We've done that, and yeah, it was bloody great, but if it goes anywhere - well, I'd like it to be based on a little more than some really great sex. Besides," He waved his hand in the air, gesturing toward the stacks of papers and books. I've been writing poetry and composing love letters like a teenaged bird for days now, it'd be a shame if I didn't get to slip some under your door, now wouldn't it?" He grinned at Marton and blushed.

"You've been... poetry?" Marton looked stunned. "And you don't just want to fuck?"

"Not if that's all it's going to be, then no." Orlando said and then turned to pick up a pad of paper. He blushed a furious red and lay it back down. "Some of this is so bad. I went and got one of Viggo's books, um - there." He pointed to a book on the end table. "You know, to see how to start. It wasn't much help." He turned and picked up a wrinkled piece of paper. "I pulled out my old script, but-" He shrugged. "Everything was someone else's words, and you deserved better than that. So, I ordered more chocolate, inspiration, you know?"

"And you've been doing this since when?" Marton took in the books, the scribbled sheets of paper, all tangible elements of Orlando's feelings towards him. _I don't think it's a trick, or a ploy or a game. Not this time._

Orlando laughed and scuffed his toe in the carpet. "For a while, with true dedication since Jeremy called me a diva and a puppy and with the added calories and alcohol since I saw you with him. I'm not sure I would have ever had the nerve to try to tell you how I felt, especially after my fuck up on set the other day. Spectacular that was, yeah? That's when I finally realized that it was my screwing around and thinking with my dick that had caused all of this. So.." He shrugged.

"He called you a puppy?" Marton smiled and shook his head, laughing gently at Orlando's recitation, suddenly reminding himself that he had said he was going at least five minutes ago. "Thank you for telling me all this," he murmured, standing up. "I've got... it's a lot to think about. I just need to process it all. But I'm glad you told me- I am."

Orlando pushed himself away from the dresser and held out his hand. "Thank you for coming by, and for listening to me and - maybe we could go to dinner. There's a great little place not far from here. Maybe some afternoon?" Orlando asked, chewing his lip and suddenly feeling as young as he sounded.

"You want to take me out for dinner? Like a date?" Marton asked, fighting the urge to grin like an idiot. _What- is he going to court me?_

"Yeah, if you want to. Just a daytime dinner thing. We can talk and," He grinned. "I'll recite some really bad poetry to you. Sound tempting?"

"Actually, sounds perfect," Marton's grin matched Orlando's. "I'm not shooting on... Tuesday? Are you free at all?"

"Hang on." Orlando grabbed his schedule and looked at it, frowning, and then brightened. "If you don't mind a lunch date. I've got to be on set that evening, but I've got until late afternoon free. That be okay?" He asked hopefully, clutching the paper in his hand, but trying to appear calm and nonchalant.

"That should work- so... twelve-thirty? One o' clock?" Marton checked, feeling nervous again.

"Twelve-thirty would be great. I'll get a cab, it's not far. You're going to love the salads; they're great and the fresh bread. It's warm when they bring it to the table. It'll be great." He bounced on his toes smiling.

"Okay. Okay," Marton repeated, feeling stupid about being so nervous, until he noticed that Orlando was bouncing with it. _At least it's not just me._ "So... I'll see you then. Or on set. But then for sure," he said, reluctantly heading for the door.

"Yeah, Tuesday at twelve -thirty, or before, you know if I see you." Orlando laughed and scratched his head. "So if I do see you on set can I, you know, wave, and say hi?" He grinned shyly.

"Sure. Come by and have lunch with me and Jeremy even," Marton teased gently.

Orlando blanched and then had a momentary pause at how the thought of Marton and Jeremy having lunch made him a bit jealous. _Well, how odd is that?_ He thought and then said, "Uh no, thanks just the same. I'm learning all kinds of lessons lately, that's one." He said and smiled.

"Whatever it is that happened, he won't hold it against you, Orlando," Marton said confidentially, his hand on the doorknob. "That's not his way. If you were wondering, he didn't tell me anything about it. Just made fun of your choice of alcohol, and he does that to me too."

"I appreciate you telling me and I know that Jeremy's a - gentleman?" He smiled. "But maybe it's just that after all this time, he kind of sums up or maybe represents everything I was doing wrong? How far I needed to go to grow up, yeah? He and I will be fine, we are professional after all." He grinned and bowed with a sweeping gesture.

"We'll leave it at that then," Marton nodded. "So... Tuesday. See you then."

"See you then. Thanks Marton." Orlando said, wanting to move to the man, wanting to touch him but refusing to give in to the feeling.

"You're welcome. And thank you, too. Bye," Marton said, making himself walk out of the room and close the door behind him.

Orlando sagged against the dresser. "Hurry up Tuesday." He muttered softly, picking up one of the books and beginning to flip through it.

The door opened again with a bang as Marton strode back into the room, crossing it in a few paces and pulling Orlando into his arms, kissing him fiercely.

Orlando squeaked, the book falling from his hand. He was at a loss for a moment, afraid to do anything wrong, but the almost painful need to touch Marton overrode common sense and he wrapped his arms around the man gently. Letting the kiss be everything.


	19. Chapter 19

Orlando bit at Marton's lip, sucking the full bottom one into his mouth and tugging gently. He let his fingers skate along Marton's chest until he came to the waistband; he tugged, grinning around Marton's lip. He pulled back and with a gleam in his eye he said, "C'mon Marts, strip."

Sighing patiently at the nickname, Marton licked his lips, making no move to help Orlando. "If you're so impatient, go ahead and take care of it yourself. Lord knows I'm not stopping you," he said, smirking at Orlando.

Orlando raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Oh well, take care of what myself, exactly?" He stepped back and unbuttoned his shirt, opening it but keeping it on. Lifting his hand he sucked two fingers into his mouth, wetting them. He dragged the fingers from his lips and down his throat, leaving a wet trail to his chest. "Wanna watch?"

"You said you wanted me stripped- 'take care of it' wasn't specific enough for you?" Marton growled, his eyes locked on Orlando's fingers as they slipped over his chest.

"Use small words, I'm lust addled, can't think." Orlando said with a laugh. He twisted a nipple, grunting and arching toward his own hand. "Oh yeah, I'll strip you." He released the hard bud and slowly removed Marton's shirt, dropping to his knees he licked along Marton's lean, flat stomach, dipping into his naval and sucking at the skin around it.

"Christ!" Marton groaned, his head lolling back on his neck, and then moving center again, looking down at Orlando. "Clothes. Off. _Now._ Those words small enough?" he rasped.

Orlando unzipped Marton's trousers, peeling the fly open slowly. Rocking back to settle on his heels, he shrugged his shirt off and then ran his hands up and down Marton's thighs, digging the tips of his fingers in. "Come down here, please." He said and grinned, patting the floor.

Marton raised an eyebrow and looked down at Orlando. "We have a bed, you know. Nice one too," he added, feigning reluctance to join Orlando on the floor.

"More room on the floor." Orlando said and drew his feet up flat, knees bent. He popped the buttons on his jeans and scratched his fingers through the stiff curly hair. He arched up, pushing his hips off of the floor.

"And you're thinking we're going to need that room..." _Oh. Christ._ Marton trailed off as he watched Orlando, a low moan spilling over his lips as he dropped to his knees and crawled over beside Orlando. "That's unfair," he rasped, leaning over for a kiss.

"Yeah we will." Orlando said into Marton's mouth, licking into the wet heat, tongue running across the hard ridge of teeth. "I never said I was fair, yeah? Use what you've got." He breathed out a soft laugh and ran his hand to Marton's crotch and palmed the heavy warmth there.

"Tease," Marton groaned, leaning into the touch, his eyes closing for a moment before opening again, looking deeply into Orlando's.

Orlando leaned up on his elbow. "Only a tease if you don't follow through." Orlando said watching Marton intently. He sat and placed his hand on Marton's chest, pushing slightly. "Roll over, on your stomach." He said in a low rasp.

"Anybody ever tell you that you're bossy?" Marton groaned, shivering as he rolled onto his stomach.

"You may have once, but I probably wasn't paying attention. You really shouldn't talk when you're naked, it distracts me." Orlando said, leaning over he licked down the center of Marton's back, tongue running over the knobs of spine. As he left a trail of slick across each indention he hooked long fingers into the waistband of the trousers and tugged, slipping them over the firm cheeks and working them down Marton's thighs. "You are so bloody gorgeous." Orlando murmured and bit Marton's hip.

Marton laughed as Orlando started to speak, the laugh quickly turning into a moan as Orlando's tongue traced down his back, hissing at the bite. "Quite the compliment, coming from you," he murmured, shifting to allow Orlando to remove his pants completely.

"Mhmm. Budge up a bit." Orlando patted Marton's leg. As Marton pulled his knees up, lifting his hips into the air, Orlando rolled over and shoved at his jeans, pushing them down his lean legs and off. Sitting back up, he crawled to kneel behind Marton. Kneading at the warm flesh, he ran his lips along the crease of thigh and arse, dragging his teeth and then licking out.

Marton gritted his teeth, trying to keep from groaning at the feel of Orlando's tongue and teeth working against his skin. "That's it, isn't it? You're trying to kill me," he breathed, pressing back against Orlando, his entire body tensing.

Placing his palms flat against the firm cheeks, Orlando used his thumbs to separate the flesh and leaned in. "If I was trying to kill you." He enunciated each word carefully, slowly. "I would do this." He blew a warm moist gust of air across the pucker, thumbs tightening slightly.

A fierce shudder ran through his frame, a low moan sounding from deep within his chest, as Marton reacted to the sensation, his hips pumping lightly, unable to stop his eyes from closing. "Orlando, if you're teasing this time, I will kill _you_," Marton vowed, his voice unsteady.

Orlando chuckled and licked a stripe across Marton's entrance, moaning and squeezing the arse cheeks in his fingers. "No teasing." He murmured and leaned in again, his own cock hard and heavy between his thighs, the weight shifting as he moved to lap at Marton, tasting and sighing happily.

Marton's mind fuzzed over with lust as Orlando's tongue darted over his opening, his cock hard against his stomach. He pulsed his hips slowly, pushing back against Orlando's tongue, setting a slow rhythm, unable to keep his body from shaking as he moved, his moans becoming more and more desperate.

"Mmmm, wait." Orlando said softly and pushed his tongue in past the ring of muscle, licking wetly. He caught and held Marton's hips, wriggling his tongue, stabbing it as deep as he could until he pulled back and with a grin pushed his thumb close. He rubbed it over the already sensitive hole, pushing it inside and crooking it to rub over the peak of nerves. His own reserve was crumbling and his cock throbbing. "Marton, Christ I want you."

Almost completely unraveled, Marton took a moment or two to react to Orlando's words. "Have me then- _Christ_, Orlando- please don't make me wait any longer," he begged, spreading his legs wider, gasping for air.

Orlando pulled his hands from Marton and grabbed his jeans. Fishing in the pocket he pulled out supplies, making quick work of rolling a condom on and smearing lube on the aching flesh. He knelt behind Marton, the thick head of his cock pressed against the pucker. Orlando groaned as he sunk slowly into the tight heat. "Oh fuck, yes." He gripped Marton tight and snapped his hips, pulling back out and letting the slide pull slam sensations through him.

Marton braced his hands across the floor, moaning as Orlando slid inside him, unable to stop a sharp cry as his lover thrust hard back inside him. Shaking his head, he pushed back, meeting each thrust, fingers digging in against the carpet, his nail beds white. "_Christ_, Orlando- please- FUCK- more!" he demanded.

"Now. Who's. Bossy?" Orlando ground out; teeth clenched and sweat beading on his skin. "God I love you." He huffed out, thrusts hard and fast. He ran his hands up Marton's back, nails dragging and fingers digging in, up to shoulders and back to hips as he pumped his hips. He moved, confident in the knowledge that he was striking Matron's prostrate with each shove. "C'mon Marts, come for me. Feel - oh fuck feel that - us - oh fuck yeah!" Orlando leaned and ran his hand down Marton's hip. He tangled his fingers in the crisp hairs at the base of Marton's cock and tugged, hard. Wrapping his hand around the thick shaft, he stroked hard and fast. His vision began to spangle and his thrust lost rhythm as his orgasm started to boil inside of him.

Marton opened his mouth to retort to Orlando's comment about him being bossy, but all that came out was a strangled gasp as he felt Orlando's cock rubbing against his prostate, Orlando's every touch electric. He thrust up hard as Orlando's hand finally _finally_ closed around his cock, not even attempting to hold back the yell as he came, spilling over Orlando's hand again and again, his body clenching around his lover's cock.

As Marton came, his body tightening and causing Orlando to tumble into his release. He made a whimper cry and gripped Marton hard, riding him as he quivered and spasmed. Finally able to pull out, Orlando rubbed gently across Marton's back as he disposed of the condom and rolled to lie on his back, gulping air, and touching any bit of Marton that he could. "Mmm see, more room." He said, grinning.

"True," Marton murmured, collapsing beside Orlando and trying to raise his head. "We need to buy a softer carpet if you're planning on doing this more often though," he teased.

Orlando rolled to lay against Marton, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his forehead. "Mmhmm, or just put a really big bed in every room." He laughed.

"Might look a little out of place in the dining room," Marton murmured, keeping a straight face. "But if that's what you really want..."

"Might be better though, I think I've still got bruises on my thighs where you fucked me on the table. Bed'd defiantly be softer." He finished with a yawn and curled into Marton. "Need a bed now, though - oh - and a blanket."

"Not yet you don't," Marton said with a grin, kissing Orlando and getting up with a groan. "You may have temporarily distracted me with sex, but you're mad if you thought it was going to work long term," he laughed. "You still have to call them."

Orlando rolled and wrapped his arms over his head. "No." He whined out. "Come 'ere. We'll fuck again." He said with a huffed laugh.

"Oh- wait- I learned this one," Marton pretended to be thinking deeply. "Orlando, no whining rule," Marton said, doing his best to mimic Viggo's voice.

Orlando's head shot up and he narrowed his eyes. "I hate Viggo, and now I'm not fond of you either." He laughed and stood up.

"Well, you can tell Viggo you hate him when you call him to thank them for the anniversary present," Marton smirked. "Oh- and tell Jeremy I say hi."

Orlando harrumphed. "And how odd is it that they've built a relationship out of the fact they both have the same taste in scotch. Bloody mad bastards." He turned to Marton and stroked his cheek. "Fine, I'll call. You start dinner." He kissed his lover, looking into his eyes. "I love you Marton, so much." He said in a soft voice, smiling.

"I love you too."


End file.
